Tangents
by Piper Brandybuck
Summary: Sometimes you just have to be yourself and the right person will love you for that. Flack/OC, and, undoubtedly, some M&Ms.
1. Higher Order Calculus

**Disclaimer: I don't own CSI: NY, and honestly, I never would. Caroline Palmer, and associated family and friends are mine, however (Jess & Jen Hennessey, Haley, Justin, Emily, Nathan James, Daniel Bronson, Boone...pretty much any name you don't automatically recognize…). And apologies in advance if anything offends anyone. Don't like, don't read.  
**

"Caroline, I know you don't have class till eleven twenty, but you gotta answer your phone sometime before that."

I groaned, rolling over and trying to bury my head beneath my pillows, willing the voice on my answering machine to stop talking. The apartment returned to silence, but not before a loud beep echoed at the end of the message. I rolled back over, glaring up at the ceiling. It wasn't that I didn't like mornings or anything. I think it was more of an 'I like waking up on my own' sort of thing. I couldn't help but smile as I propped myself up, though.

"Hey, Boone-dog. What're you doing, puppy?" I asked, absently, pulling my six month old mutt of a puppy into my lap. I buried my face in her soft fur, scratching behind her ears in contentment. Leaning back on the pillows and headboard, I sighed, listening to the machine drone on about having reached Caroline Palmer who will get back to you as soon as she can and yadda yadda yadda. Honestly, I began to wonder whether having an answering machine was really worth it. I guess I really only kept it because it came with my cable and Internet. But, really, you'd have better luck calling my cell phone.

"Damn it, Caroline," I rolled my eyes, leaning over to pick up my phone.

"What?"

"What? You were supposed to be meeting me to get my paper...oh, I don't know, twenty minutes ago," Jessie shot, without missing a beat. I winced, staring down at my sleepy puppy. After a couple minutes of silence, Jess continued, "Answer me honestly, Palmer. Should I be looking for another Grad student to proof my work?"

"I don't know," I replied, lightly. "You looking for someone more masculine or something?"

"I'm so glad that you refuse to lose your brusque sense of humor," Jess retorted sarcastically.

"I call 'em as I see 'em," I replied, letting lose a yawn.

"How can you still be tired, don't you go to bed at like eleven o'clock on the dot?"

"Hey, it happens sometimes, okay. Lay off."

"So, you gonna handle my paper, or should I start looking up your fellow, though undeniably sexier, mathematicians?" Jess was tiring of conversation. She didn't like the phone. I didn't either.

"I don't appreciate you insinuating that I'm not sexy just because I'm female," I pointed out, raising my brow. "But, yes, Jessie, darling, I'll give it the good old one over. Besides, I don't know of any of my fellows who've had their work published." Jess snorted. I liked being cocky every now and then. I sighed. "You do know that I only got by with a B in my English 101 class, and that that was years ago, right?"

"I don't care what you made in English 101, that's a crap class and you know it," I could almost see Jess rolling her eyes at me. She was probably shaking her head to get her bangs out of her face, considering their annoying tendency to stick to her eyelashes. I often wondered why she wouldn't just cut them shorter, but for some reason whenever I managed to broach the topic she got defensive. She's called me some inappropriate things when I talk about changing her hair. "Caroline. I just want you to check my math and do your grammar Nazi routine."

"I am _not_ a grammar Nazi," I mumbled, twisting my back and hearing the satisfying popping noise in response. "Aren't you Jewish?"

"When can I give you my paper?" Jess brought the conversation around. "Preferably today, if you don't mind." I shrugged. Not that she could see me, anyway. It's a bad habit. But everyone does it, don't they? I suppose that's why it really never made any sense to me that people would walk past you while you were on the phone and give you this really strange look. Sometimes I really just wanted to turn around and be like 'Hey, I'm on the phone people. If you were on yours, you'd have the same weird facial expressions, too.' But, it's not like I would _ever_ do that.

"Eleven ten?" I replied, glancing at my clock. Ten thirty. Plenty of time as long as the short ten minute drive to campus didn't turn into a thirty minute traffic nightmare.

"Fine." I could tell by the tone of her voice that she wasn't particularly happy about the decision. My brow knit before I came to the realization that her only class of the day ended at ten and she'd probably like to be gone before ten thirty. Oh, well. When you want someone else to look at your work, you've got to work with them, not the other way around. Remember that. "Parking Deck?"

"You know it," I smiled.

"I'll see you then, Palmer." I couldn't resist, I stuck my tongue out before I responded.

"I'll see you in forty, _Hennessey_."

--

As it turns out, traffic wasn't a nightmare. Which, let's be honest, is a rarity in New York City. I think someone's really looking out for Jess. Making sure I was only five minutes late to our little rendezvous. And, after that, I had a lovely, fun filled fifty minutes of teaching my crazy Calculus II class. People never believed that a math class could bring so much joy to my life.

But I've said it before, and I'll say it again, if you're doing your math with the right people, suddenly it gets a whole lot more interesting.

Like Justin whatever his name was in tenth grade. I mean, despite the fact that it was really weird that he had the same first name as my older brother; I think tenth grade might have really gotten me into math. It was something in the way that he would lean back in his chair, making the plastic on his mechanical pencil pop, his amazingly bright, endless eyes lighting up when he actually understood what was going on.

Yeah, that might have done it for me.

Kind of like those two insanely attractive men standing down the hall. Walking toward me. _Looking_ at me.

That really shouldn't bother me. It should make me feel great. But there was something about the determined looks on their faces that made me try to look anywhere but at their approaching figures. Which would be why I, being the genius that I am, didn't realize I knew one of them until he spoke.

"Caroline?"

I looked up. Not at the one who spoke. I wanted to delay any reaction I could have to that voice. I wasn't ready for it. I wasn't ready for most things.

The man I looked up at made heat flush across my face, I could feel it building. He was insanely tall, so much so that I was betting he could probably jump into my jacked up F-250 without the side runners. Maybe I'm exaggerating a little. But there's no way I could exaggerate the staggering intensity that I saw written in his blue, _blue_ eyes.

And, I have to admit, I couldn't stop a smile from forming when I noticed his clothing. It wasn't that it was a funny sight. It was professional, slick. It read 'I mean business, don't eff with me.' It was just poorly chosen in terms of matching, I suppose. The patterned burgundy tie did _not_ match the blue, white, and light yellow striped shirt. And, yeah, it took a lot to suppress a giggle. Because, really, who giggles at my age anymore?

I could feel his companion's eyes on me. And I didn't want to look at him. He always made me feel awkward. Mostly because, well, I guess I'd always sort of had a thing for the significantly older man.

Not always, I suppose, just since I'd been a teenager. Puberty and all that fun stuff, right?

And it didn't help that Emily made fun of me for it. What kind of sister makes fun of your first crush? And I found myself groaning internally at the realization that Haley was meeting me for lunch. Of course my best childhood friend would want to sit down with me the day my childhood crush walks back into my life. Funny how you remember things at such convenient times as these.

But he was the same old person I always knew. Maybe a little more ragged, tired looking. But still official, professional, even without his partner's non-matching tie. He was still attractive, even being twice my age.

I cursed myself internally for thinking things like that.

"Mac?" I lifted my brow, willing the blush I knew was on my cheeks to go away. I was surprised the usual splutter of uncontrollable rambling words didn't spill out of my mouth. That happened a lot lately when I was around men. Like Nathan James, for one.

Could I help it that he had a ridiculously hot sampling of freckles on his nose that I _had_ to comment on? Could I help it that his bright green eyes shimmered with such happiness that looking at them made me want to laugh, too? Could I help the fact that 'Caroline James' didn't sound all that bad?

I probably could've helped mentioning the fact to him, though.

"I was told you're the fastest mathematician the university's housing right now," he stated, holding out a paper. I took it, looking at the flurry of integrals, derivatives, series, differential equations, you name it.

I stood there awkwardly. Was this business? I knew he was a Detective, but wouldn't you say something about that first? Or maybe you wouldn't, I guess, if you knew the person and they knew you. I don't know. My experience as far as cops goes is pretty much limited to the time Justin wanted to hire a body guard. I let him know that it was highly unlikely anything would really happen to an outdoorsman. And I remember that clearly, because I snorted in a very unladylike fashion at the suggestion. Daniel Bronson didn't even call me the next day.

"Can you do them?" He asked, a hint of, what was that, annoyance or frustration in his voice. I hoped this was business, because if it wasn't, Mac Taylor sure had changed a lot.

"Yeah, sure, um," I fumbled. Great, here I was, already tripping all over myself. I hastily shoved my cell phone in my pocket, where it promptly started blaring Journey's 'Don't Stop Believing.' I let out a groan.

And then slapped my hand over my mouth. Why was I always so completely unladylike at the worst possible moments?

It didn't help matters that Mac's hot partner was trying to hide his smile. Unsuccessfully, I might add.

I dug my phone back out, flipping it back open. Haley, of course. I snapped it shut again, throwing it in my bag, which I slung off my shoulder and onto the ground, so I could dig for a pen. And I sat down, in the middle of the building, in the middle of the hallway, leaning over higher order Calculus.

"Time me," I murmured.

What could I say? I loved setting records.

--

"You're flushed," Haley smirked at me. "Yet happy. What's his name?" I slumped into the chair across from her, glad that it was afternoon and not evening; because I wasn't sure I could deal with a conversation in the smoky, loud, annoying atmosphere of a New York restaurant at six in the evening.

"Why does it have to be a guy?" I asked, not paying attention to her, but instead grabbing for a menu, because, Christ, was I hungry.

"I know you, Caroline, that's why."

"Well," I murmured, a triumphant grin settling on my face, "Actually, I happened to solve ten higher order Calculus equations in just under eight minutes. I am happy." I was happy, that was a freaking record. And, yeah, maybe it did help my mood a little bit that Mac looked impressed. And so did _Detective Flack_.

"And there were no men involved?" Haley asked, looking at me skeptically while she played with her straw. I ignored her, looking down at the menu. I hoped she couldn't see the coloring in my face. But when I looked up she was still looking at me, a look of expectancy which turned to accusation.

"There _were_ men involved," she accused, lifting a finger to point at me. Well, damn. Why does she have to know me so well?

"Okay. Fine. I concede. There were men," I stated.

"Men? As in, plural, more than one?"

"Generally that's what that means, yes." She was still looking at me expectantly. I sighed, flopping the menu down, still having absolutely no idea what I wanted. Couldn't she tell that I was hungry? Taunting me with a menu and then making me talk about boys! She was terrible!

"Tell me," she fixed her eyes on me, grinning so that she could spread it to me. She probably wanted me to stop glaring. But I persevered, even as I started to tell her.

"_They_ were Detectives-"

"What did you do?"

"Math." She fixed me with a glare of her own. I held mine steady. "Fine, I won't interrupt again."

"You sure?" She nodded, so I nodded. And then I continued, "They wanted me to do the aforementioned Calculus problems. And I did. And they were impressed. Um. And they were hot. End of story."

"There's totally more to this story, I can tell," she stopped abruptly when the waiter came by to take our orders. He was kind of attractive, too. I probably would've taken more notice if I wasn't stuck on the image of Mac and Flack. And then I couldn't help but laugh at the realization that their names rhymed, which cause the waiter to give me a 'poor thing, she's out of her mind,' nervous kind of smile, while Haley just rolled her eyes.

"Since you're not particularly forward with your information today, I'm gonna pry."

"Is Jen giving you lessons?" I asked, lightly. Jen was Jess's twin sister. Jess's twin sister who happened to make money on the side by sketching criminals for cops to have an image to go by.

"Jen's an artist, not an interrogator," Haley replied. I thought maybe I'd got her off track. No such luck. She was relentless. "Do _they_ interrogate? _Did_ they interrogate?"

"I suppose so. They are cops. Actually, they're detectives," I replied, thinking back to how they'd both handed me a card, the pair of which were now sandwiched together in my back pocket. "And no, they didn't."

"Okay. Tell me why you're not describing them in antagonizing detail. Because, whatever you may try to claim, this is not how you normally act after seeing an attractive man."

Could I really help it that I didn't want to tell Haley that one of the hot detectives was Mac Taylor? My mom's Marine buddy? That very same Marine buddy that Haley and Emily never left me alone about for nearly a year? The Marine turned Detective that was twice my-

"Caroline." I glanced up at her. Her chocolate eyes were bubbling over with frustration at my apparent lack of attention.

"Um," I paused. Might as well just jump right in, right? "One of them was Mac Taylor." I let my sentence trail off, getting quieter as I spoke. Haley didn't say anything, and when I looked up she looked at me with utter confusion written across her pointed features.

"I feel like I'm supposed to know that name," she murmured, looking away from me, out the window, trying to recall the name. Was it wrong of me to be reluctant to help her?

"How could you forget? You and Emily only teased me about him for the entirety of my freshman year," I mumbled. Maybe she wouldn't remember. But I saw the way her eyes lit up. Dash it all, today was meant to be an awful day.

"_That_ Mac Taylor," she grinned. Full out. And I knew it was coming. Knew it. I opened my mouth to say anything else, anything to force her away from the topic, anything at all, but she beat me to it. "Does he still make your knees go weak, Liney?"

"Shut up," I groaned in response. Right when the cute waiter came back with our food. I really should just stop breathing around the opposite sex. Nothing good ever came of it. I jumped at the chance to change the topic, though.

"His partner was the definition of sex, though," I tossed out, fumbling to open my napkin and retrieve my fork.

"Definition of sex?" Haley asked, lifting her eyebrow at me, giving me that 'did you have whiskey last night, because you know what it does to you' look.

"Back up. Rephrase. He was," I paused, "Undeniably sexy."

"Really? What a shocker," Haley laughed.

"Can I help it that all the men I meet are complete studs?"

"You can help using words like 'stud,'" she muttered, shoving a forkful of salad into her mouth.

"Right. Poor wording. I'm a terrible worder."

"You're terrible with the English language. Your parents really shouldn't have tried to teach you."

"I'll have you know that Jess is having me edit her dissertation," I replied, grunting as I cut through my Parmesan Chicken.

"For the math, Liney, for the math," she replied, cutting through the chicken that she'd missed before.

"She didn't," I gasped, "She asked _you_ to edit after _me_."

"The twins are young, they're naive, let it go." Haley was attempting to placate me. The twins were a year younger than us, it was true. But I really don't think that it was fair of Jess to even begin to insinuate that I was good at grammar if she didn't really believe it. What if in that moment alone, she'd convinced me that I was in the wrong major only months away from getting my PhD in mathematics?

Right. Not likely, I guess.

What if, in that moment alone, she'd convinced me that I was good enough at grammar that I happened to offer my services at the help centers scattered throughout campus, happened to meet my soul mate, who _was_ a grammar genius, and when I got my results back on the entrance to editing test he would, of course, be sitting next to me, take one look at my insanely low score, and then spend the rest of the day convincing his peers that he didn't know me, and I'd never see him again, ever?

I didn't have all the time in the world to puzzle over this, though, a noise drawing my attention. I looked at Haley, who was white as a sheet, looking out the window. I looked that way, too, and saw the frantic maneuverings of the assorted customers. But I couldn't hear them. All I could hear was the dull ringing in my ears left by the sound of a gunshot in the distance.

_X-posted to my fanfic livejournal community, switchingfoot._

_Wooooah. I haven't been on here in ages, can't believe I remember my password, honestly. Um. This is a new thing style for me, inspiration coming from a fanfic I read years ago in the Harry Potter verse. I'm absolutely horrid at stories of any substance, as I usually stay in the realm of one-shots filled with fluffy angst (or angst or fluff, you know, separately), but Caroline's been building in my head and she really, really needs to be put into words. So, here we go.  
_

_Maybe it'll be a decent ride._

_-Piper_


	2. Worst Day Ever

**Disclaimer: I don't own CSI: New York or any of its characters and actors and such, nor do I own Jason Aldean or Celine Dion. And, let's be honest, I don't know anything about Brownings. I do own Caroline Palmer, Haley Oakley, Justin Palmer, and Boone, though.**

"Damn it."

"Haley!" I grunted, pushing myself up out of the booth. Was it terrible that I didn't feel comfortable with her cursing at that moment? Probably. Could I really harp on her for cursing at a time like this? Well, yeah, obviously.

Again, probably not the most important thing to be worried about just at the moment.

We'd exited the restaurant, and we were now nearly getting trampled in the over crowded streets. No one really seemed to be bothered by the fact that there was just a gun shot. Half of these people probably weren't even listening to the activity around them. I found that fascinating, as everyone in the restaurant had freaked. That settled it, even after all the years I'd lived and studied here, New Yorkers were officially weird.

Haley tried to pull me in the same general direction as everyone else, but I wanted to go down the alley where I assumed the shot had come from.

"Caroline!" Haley hissed in response, as I ripped my arm free. She should know better than that, she knew I was stronger than she was. And she knew that I knew about guns. Even if the person with said gun was still in the alleyway, I knew I could get the aforementioned weapon. And turn the safety on.

I was a genius at safety.

Especially on Brownings. And I _knew_ that was a Browning. And if it wasn't, well, I might have to start spending more time with the family in Tennessee.

"Caroline, I don't like this," Haley stated, stopping in her tracks at the edge of the alleyway. She didn't have to come any further if she didn't want to, as far as I was concerned.

"Shush," I replied, waving my hand at her. The alleyway was cluttered, but I could make out the form of a man on the ground. I glanced around. There was no one else. Which didn't really mean anything. I looked up.

Yeah, that definitely didn't mean anything. Fire escape, windows, boxes on the other side of the fence at the other side of the alley. The person with the gun could be anywhere.

But, I imagine, if he were still there, I would probably be dead by now, because tripping over a metal trashcan lid makes quite the racket.

"Caroline!" Haley sputtered. I wasn't worried about it anymore, I rushed forward, jabbing my hands on the man's stomach, trying to stop the flow of blood through the bullet wound. I needed more pressure.

"Haley, did you call nine one one?" I yelled down the length of the alley. I couldn't blame her for not wanting to see the gunshot. In twelfth grade she'd had a thing for my older brother Justin. Professional hunter and fisherman. Let's just say his idea of a date is not quite the same as Haley's. One hunting trip was more than enough for her.

Now she's moved onto bigger, more eccentric men like her ex-Physics tutor.

"You know how long it takes for an ambulance to get here," Haley replied, drawing me out of my thoughts.

Right. Dying man in front of me.

Dying man who was definitely on the brink of actually being dead.

--

"Ms. Palmer?"

I looked up from my seat at the back of the ambulance. Yeah, Haley seriously made me go with the paramedics. Really? There wasn't anything wrong with me, aside from blood stains and the formations of a hole in my jeans on my right knee. Which, I'll have you know, I was _not_ happy to find.

"Detective Flack?" Seriously, the man was absolutely gorgeous. I took a deep breath, and, catching sight of Haley making her way over, let it out in possibly the single most unattractive way known to man. Because, hey, that's what I do.

"Haley Oakley," Haley stuck her hand out toward the handsome detective. I couldn't help but snort. I always did. Which, let's be honest, is probably part of the reason I don't do well with men. I'm twenty seven and I _still_ find the fact that Haley's initials are H.O. funny.

Someone should just put me out of my misery.

"Detective Don Flack, NYPD," he replied, shaking her offered hand. Apparently the fact that a guy had just died didn't bother her so much anymore now that she couldn't see him. She looked at me with that glint in her eye.

Oh, yeah. She knew who this was.

"Haley, you're interrupting what I'm assuming was about to be a witness questioning," I muttered. And I couldn't help but smile when I saw that Flack, no, Don, was it, looked kind of impressed, again. It was the lingo.

Except now he probably thinks I'm crazy, berating my friend and smiling after an experience that should have traumatized a person.

"It wasn't really that important, was it? Because, let's think, you weren't a witness," Haley glared at me. I grimaced, rubbing the cloth that was between my hands over them again. Maybe if I was distracted enough, they would both just disappear. "I wasn't either. We just heard the shot. And Caroline, being Caroline, decided to wander toward the noise instead of away from it like the rest of the universe."

"Why was that?" Flack asked. It was a response to Haley's statement, but it was directed at me. He'd suddenly gone entirely detective. And I could tell, because he didn't have that same light in his bright blue eyes.

Bright blue eyes that could have given me a heart attack right then and there.

"My brother's a professional outdoorsman and my dad knows pretty much everything there is to know about the outdoor sports," I noticed his slightly confused expression. Understandable, considering I was in a Northern city, right? And, let's just clear things up anyway, yes, most sports did happen in the outdoors. But these were specifics. "Hunting, fishing, you know. Anyway, I knew the gun shot was a Browning. My brother owns one of every single make and model known to man, and my dad sells them." I shrugged. Suddenly it felt like I was in the middle of telling a really great story that didn't have a punch line.

"And you ran toward the vic why?" His eyebrows lifted, his mouth settled into a slight frown.

_That_ was sexy.

"I've seen enough bullet wounds in my day," I replied. "I thought maybe I could help?" He probably thought it was weird that I was phrasing my words like a question. _I_ thought it was weird that I was phrasing my words like a question. I should have just let Haley continue answering the questions.

And then Mac showed up.

And, really, I thought I might just die.

_How_ could this day get any worse?

"Caroline," Mac addressed me. "Do you know what make and model the gun was, exactly?"

"No," I bit my lip. "But I could probably tell you if I saw the bullet, or heard it again." I noticed a person coming out of the alleyway with a gun in their hands. She was somewhat petite, short brown hair, stylish work attire. Rubber gloves. Definitely a fellow CSI. "Or if I found it in the alleyway."

"Hey," the brunette walked over, "I think I found the murder weapon."

"You did," I replied, automatically reaching out for it. Mac's hand caught mine, though, before I could touch it. Before I could contaminate it. I was going to have to be more careful if I was going to start hanging out with detectives.

Whoa. Back up. Since when was I going to start 'hanging out with detectives'? I so needed to go back to sleep, and pretend this day never happened. Pretend I never met the sexiest man alive, pretend I never saw Mac Taylor again, and pretend I never had any conversation involving either of them with Haley Oakley.

But at least my thoughts of 'this isn't happening,' and wanting to disappear kept me from realizing Mac's hand was gripping my wrist until he let go of it. If I had been aware of that, I might have completely lost it.

And I didn't want them to think I was crazy before they even had a chance believe, if only for a moment, that I wasn't.

"We'll take this back to the lab, you finish processing the scene," Mac directed. He was totally hot when he directed. I definitely understood why mom was friends with him in her military days.

"Give me a call if you think of anything else that might be useful," Don stated, handing a card to Haley. Then he started to give one to me. I lifted my hand, my other pulling out both his and Mac's cards from earlier that day.

"Unless you want me to start a collection, I'm good," I smiled. He couldn't stop a small smile from crossing his face. "Which reminds me, did you catch the mathematical bad guy?"

"Yeah, we did, just in time, thanks to you," he let his features relax into a complete smile. I blushed. Really badly. And when his smile got even wider, I knew he could see. And, clearly, he was feeling pretty good about making me feel uncomfortable.

Men.

"It's a shame, really. Using math for violent purposes," Haley muttered. I rolled my eyes.

"It is a shame, Hales, you're right," I stood up from my perch on the bumper, twisting the bloody cloth in my blood stained hands. "If you don't mind, though, I'd like to clean myself up. Properly. And I need to let Boone out."

"Boone?" Don asked, arching a brow again. I was beginning to think he realized I found that sexy, too.

He was just hoping to give me a heart attack.

"Her dog," Haley replied, already flipping through her wallet for her subway card, I assume. I pulled my keys out, a satisfying jingle reaching my ears. Actually, it probably wasn't that satisfying to anyone else but me, but you know, what can I say? I like my trucks.

"You want to drive?" I asked her, dangling them in front of her, trying not to touch any more of them than I had to. "I don't want blood all over it."

"_I_ cannot drive _your_ truck, Liney," Haley replied, "So no." She looked like she was about to abandon the subject, but she gave Don a glance before driving onward. "But, you're right, _you_ shouldn't be driving it."

"I think it'll be fine, Hales," I murmured lowly, hoping that he didn't catch the direction Haley had this heading. I absolutely could _not_ have him drive me home. That would be awkward. To say the least.

"No, someone else needs to, or you'll be blaming me in a week's time for the dark red hand print that won't come off your steering wheel." Maybe she had a point. But that did not make it okay for her to say what she said next. "Would you mind driving her home, Detective Flack?"

Oh, I hate you so much, Haley. I let my eyes fall downcast. I could not believe that it was only three in the afternoon. This truly was the worst day ever. And _this_ couldn't be happening.

But I felt the slight weight of my keys being lifted from my hands, and looked up into the shinning blue eyes of Detective Don Flack.

Who was apparently okay with driving me home.

--

It wasn't the worst thing I'd been through.

So, there had been several times when I'd wished my seat would swallow me whole, when I'd rambled myself into a hole even he couldn't find a way out of, and more than enough awkward silences to cover me for the rest of my life. But it could have been worse.

It could always be worse.

Like, I could've had an extremely embarrassing song blaring when he cranked her. Okay, so maybe I _did_ have music blaring extremely loudly when he turned the car on, but the music choice could've been a lot worse than Jason Aldean.

I mean, I could've been playing Celine Dion or something. Imagine that.

I laughed as I scrubbed at my hands in the shower. It was satisfying to watch red disappearing down the drain. I hoped he'd let himself out, that would've been another awkward moment for me to explain, wouldn't it? "Yeah, I'm in the habit of remembering amusing things when I'm in the shower."

Whatever.

I dressed quickly, putting on a pair of athletic shorts that were, by all accounts, too big for me, and an old shirt with 'NAVY' written across it in big, block letters. It didn't occur to me that that might be something I'd have to explain until I walked out of the bathroom, hair still dripping wet, leaving spots behind me on my wooden floors, when I spotted Don Flack leaning back on my couch, eyes closed, but still very much awake.

Boone was sprawled out across his lap, and he was running a hand over her back. She looked content. Damn dog, she was more awkward than I was and she already had him giving her the time of day.

_I was jealous of a dog._

Boone was a German Sheppard Lab mix, and she had gangly legs that were too big for her. She didn't know what to do with them most of the time. When she lifted her head my direction, her legs fumbled to stand up, but she ended up falling off the couch instead. And it always took her a minute or two to get hear bearings on the wooden floor. Because it was easy for dogs to slip on hardwood.

That moment gave Don time to open his eyes and lift his head. Obviously, he was confused as to why Boone suddenly went apparently crazy. He looked up at me, realization lighting up his eyes.

They really were going to have to stop doing that if I was going to ever pass for a human being in his presence.

I bent down to pick up Boone, who was now on her back paws, her front reaching up to the middle of my left thigh. I gave her a scratch behind the ears.

"Hey, Boone-dog." Her tail wagged appreciatively. Don smiled at me.

Wow, I hope he didn't hear me laughing in the shower.

"I took her out, since you mentioned it." Was it just me or did he look a little nervous? That made me want to laugh, too, because, really, what did _he_ have to be nervous about?

"Yeah, thanks," I settled for a smile instead. One that was hopefully _not_ so happy that it made me look like a crazy. That would suck. He moved his feet off the coffee table, sitting up, when he noticed that my eyes had wandered that direction.

"Sorry," he murmured.

"No, it's fine," I replied. Still feeling the increasingly awkward vibes. I don't understand why my life seemed to be one awkward silence after the next. I noticed he was relaxed, though, and that had me a little irritated, because I just knew he probably just found this to be a comfortable silence.

_Men_.

But I couldn't help smiling. Hopefully girls that smile an insane amount weren't a turn off for him.

"The Navy, huh?" He asked, nodding at my shirt.

"Uh," I looked down, like I had to check and make sure. Seriously, I _just_ put it on, standing in front of a mirror. Why was I acting so stupid? "Yeah. My mom was in the Navy. That's, uh, how I know Mac."

I'd like to keep my own failure at being in the military out of the conversation, thank you.

"Oh," he started, ready to say something else, but his phone went off, instead. I absently rubbed Boone's ears, blowing on her head to get her attention. She looked up at me and licked my nose.

Well, at least I always had a dog to fall back on.

Don had stood up, and was just clipping his phone back on his belt. I let Boone drop to the floor. She sauntered up to him, rubbing against his leg.

"I could take you, if you want," I murmured, slipping off the arm rest I'd been perched on and standing up.

And then I silently wondered how I managed to get that out. Probably because I was looking at Boone, not at Don.

That was going to get problematic, too.

"I don't want to put you out or anything," he replied. Wow, he was a freaking gentlemen.

"You wouldn't be," I fumbled for something more concrete. He was going to the crime lab. There was something I could use there. Something, anything. "I'd like to see Mac, anyway."

Okay, _that_ wasn't really the something I was going for.

But he nodded in resignation. So, I guess it made sense to him that I'd want to see Mac. Weird. I would've though anyone could pick up my vibes of utter nervousness when I was around Mac Taylor, even Mac Taylor himself. But, then, again, I reasoned, that was probably just because I hadn't been anything but a ball of nervousness every time Don Flack had ever seen me.

Right. He probably just thought it was my personality.

He stood awkwardly in my doorway. Shoes. Jacket. Keys. Yeah, those would be good. I disappeared into my room, hoping he wouldn't just disappear before I got back. I slipped on a pair of flip flops, picked up a coat lying across my bed, and grabbed my keys from my dresser.

And I didn't even realize that my hair was still sopping wet until I pulled up in front of the offices of the New York City Crime Lab.

_Again, x-posted to my LJ, switchingfoot._

_Uh. Yeah. You should let me know if this is believable or if it's really just complete crap. I'm still experimenting with the characters. I feel like I know who they are; I just have issues with dialogue. If you have any suggestions as to what I should do, feel free to share, too, 'cause this could really go in any direction I wanted, there's nothing concrete about it._

_Tips, tricks, comments, constructive criticism. Anything but hate, and I'm down with that. :) (Really, Word? "I are down with that?")_

_-Piper_


	3. Subtext

**Disclaimer: I don't own CSI: New York. And the Lost Trailers own Holler Back. I do own Caroline, Emily, and William Palmer, Boone, Haley Oakley, and Jen and Jess Hennessey.**

Something was stabbing me in the chest. Something small, sharp, and pointy. Obviously it was pointy, Caroline, if it's stabbing you. But the pounding in my head was helping matters either.

I groaned, rolling over. Suddenly the sharp pain on my up chest was gone, but my shoulders felt constricted. And my face was being showered in dog saliva. Just what I wanted. I shoved my puppy's head away from me.

"Quit it, Boone," I mumbled, slowly letting my eyes open. Only to close them again. I tried to remember what happened yesterday, anything that happened yesterday. Well, anything except for the one single solitary thing that I could remember.

It never ceased to amaze me how things that couldn't ever bother you in the moment would haunt your vision while you tried to fall asleep. Maybe that was why I had a pounding headache. I liked turning to whiskey. I remembered snorting at Mac when he asked if I wouldn't rather have a glass of wine.

I sat up, my eyes opening.

What the _hell_ did I do last night?

Ugh. I fumbled on the night stand for my phone, rubbing my eyes all the while, and pushing my brunette locks from my face. I bet my hair looked fantastic. Really. You should see some of the masterpieces I've created in my sleep. The screen of my phone woke me up. I had five missed calls.

Do you know how hard it is to sleep through 'Holler Back'?

Suffice to say, I was dead to the world last night.

I rolled the other way, wincing as Boone whimpered, jumping up before jumping off my bed. I leaned over the edge, squinting to read the number on my answering machine. _Six_. Someone just shoot me now.

I rolled over again, back to the position I woke up to. And there was that stabbing again. Christ that hurt. I looked down at myself, finally realizing the problem.

There was an oddly shaped pin, attached to the clean cut collar of a suit coat, which was on me. That was weird. I definitely do not remember that. I think I would remember something like that. Because this was definitely Mac Taylor's coat. And, well, you know me and Mac Taylor.

I'm vaguely surprised I didn't keel over on the spot when it happened. But, then again, it's difficult to say what I was thinking at the time, as I didn't quite remember it. For all I know, I could've spilled my guts to him.

And I sure as heck hope I didn't do that.

The Lost Trailer's blared at me. I looked down at my phone. Like I needed to make sure it was my phone that was ringing. It's nice to know that alcohol intake doesn't really change me that much.

"What up?" I mumbled into the phone, cutting off the ring tone just before it could start all over again.

"What up? Really? That's the best you've got for me? Why weren't you answering your phone? You just stopped texting me last night and I-"

"Hales, I'm engaged," I gave a lazy smile into my phone. Silence on the other end. "You know I'm joking, right?"

"You just be glad that I haven't come over there to give you a good-"

"Please refrain from swearing, Haley. I'm not in the, uh, best frame of mind to listen to someone else swear. If anyone gets to swear, it's me."

"What'd you do?" I sighed, looking up at my plain white ceiling. I should put something up there. It would give me something to look at all those mornings when I was rudely awoken by someone calling me. Which seemed to be happening a lot lately. "Liney, you worried me."

"I'm fine," I mumbled. "Just a little bit of a hangover, and only a vague blur of whatever I did last night. And, apparently, a suit coat. Because that sort of stuff happens, you know?"

"I'm not going to pretend to know what you're talking about," Haley muttered. I could just see her rolling her eyes at me. That image came into my mind a lot recently, too. "But it's a Saturday, and you had me worried last night, and Jess and Jen couldn't get you to answer either, and-"

"Really, Oakley. Stop. I know," I brought my free hand up to my ever growing headache. "I'm going to put something of substance in my system, and you and Jen and Jessie'll all be here in a few hours. _I know_."

"Good." She hung up on me. I muttered a few impolite words as I dropped my phone back into the mess of bed sheets I was currently residing in. I attempted pulling myself out, but the moment I made to stand up, I fell flat on my face instead. And, I guess, by that point in time, Boone wasn't mad at me anymore, as she promptly stuck her wet nose right up next to my ear.

I reached a hand up, still lying on the floor, scratching her behind the ears. She licked my nose. Thanks, again, Boone. Just what I wanted. Again. Really. I picked myself up and dragged my feet through the apartment. I stopped briefly at a mirror, giving myself a one over. Wow. Was I something to look at. But, I mused, even in an over sized suit coat, a t-shirt, and athletic shorts, along with my crazy mess of hair flowing every which way, I probably still wouldn't raise any questions in the streets down below me.

Again, New Yorkers are strange. No doubt.

I pulled a bottle of water out of my fridge, and then leaned back on it. And I was just about to put a little bit of good old h-two-oh in my system when I saw the note. The messy, but not, at the same time, handwriting on my white board belonged to none other than the owner of the coat I was currently wearing.

_Caroline,_

_I hope you're feeling better this morning. I'll bring your spare key back by later. No whiskey tonight, right?_

_Mac_

"Oh, you're a real comedian, Detective Mac Taylor," I stated to the white board. Or to Boone, if that makes you feel more comfortable. I realize that me talking to myself is a little odd. And so is me talking to inanimate objects. And-

Wait. Did that say he was coming back?

I read the board again. Yep, sure enough. I needed to remember to text Haley and let her know the key wasn't outside anymore. Or she'll probably yell at me some more. And, call me insensitive, but I really wasn't too keen on listening to her rant about how I really wasn't being there for her. I never understood why my key not being in its usual place meant that I was being a horrible friend, but, hey, I guess friendship means different things to different people.

I thought back to yesterday again, as I got myself into the shower. What I could remember of it, anyway. I relaxed as the beads of hot water rushed over my skin. You have no idea how amazing that felt at that exact moment. No idea.

I grinned as I remembered meeting the various detectives, and CSIs, and lab techs that worked in Mac's lab. Although, yeah, I'll be honest, aside from Mac and Flack, and, yes, that still made me laugh, by the way, I only remembered two names. Danny Messer, because he might have taken the title of sexiest man ever away from Don Flack, had I not noticed a ring on a certain finger. He was undeniably hot, though, with a ridiculously sexy voice that spilled out the phrase 'How ya doin'?' with no effort what so ever and in the single most attractive way I've ever heard anyone speak. Ever.

And Adam Ross, because, hey, that was one heck of a head of hair and he was just dorky enough to be beyond adorable. And I realize that no man in his twenties wants to be called adorable. But sometimes, you just can't help that.

I remembered the other people, too. Like the wife. I smiled as I rinsed shampoo out of my hair. I liked that. 'The Wife.' I'm definitely calling her that from now on. She'd smiled at me, saying her name, which I can't recall, although I'm sure it ended in Messer, call me a genius like that, and resting her hand on her husband's arm. She was the one that had picked up the Browning in the alley. And she wanted to know more about how I knew, and then we just talked.

And when she left and Mac came back I started talking about my mother and the day's events and my life and his life and, really, it all blurred together after that.

--

Okay, I'll admit it. I put his coat back on again after I'd gotten out of the shower and changed into a nicer shirt and blue jeans. Could I help the fact that it smelled amazing? Which was vaguely surprising, considering that Mac worked with dead people.

I really hope I never bring that up in conversation. Ever. Because that's a pretty lame joke. Even for me. And I know lame. Kind of like the conversation that ensued when the girls arrived.

"Hey, sorry we're late," Jen greeted me.

"It was all their fault. Making stupid remarks about wanting to go down back streets because back street boys are hot," Haley rolled her eyes. I don't think I've ever had a single conversation with her, in the entire twenty or so years I've known her, without her rolling her eyes.

"Oh, yeah," I mumbled, lazily falling into a hug with Jen. I hadn't seen her in weeks. That was the problem with her going to Julliard, didn't get to see her quite as often as I'd like. That, and she did kind of have a real job. "Did you say that in sync, too?"

"Nice," Jess gave me a high five. "Here I thought we were the only ones with lame jokes about boy bands."

"At our age, anyway," Jen added. I backed up to get a look at them. They were definitely twins. They both even moved their bangs out of their face just before they could catch on their eyelashes. That was kind of creepy. Being like mirrors.

Maybe that was last night's whiskey talking.

"So no whiskey, tonight, huh?" Jess asked, pointing at the white board as she settled herself onto my couch.

"Bummer," Jen stated. "Is Mac the owner of the coat you're wearing?" I blushed, looking down at the realization that I was still wearing it, but nodded, slipping it off and draping it across the back of Jen's chair. I fell into the couch next to Jess.

"Okay," Haley waltzed back in the room with Boone in her arms. "So, I've got two pizzas and you've got beer and there's a hockey game on in an hour. You can either spill about last night and boys, or you can listen to my future in law trouble."

"Trouble, really?" I asked. "I thought you loved Physics boy's parents, and vice versa."

"That really wasn't an option, Liney, I was just being polite," she glared at me.

"There's really not much to talk about," I replied. "I just, uh, I guess I just fell asleep while Mac and I were talking and he gave me his coat. Besides, we all know he's twice my age and nothing would ever happen there, because he's an upstanding citizen of the law and a Marine and-"

"_We_ don't know all that," Jen cut in. "Because _we're_ not from Tennessee."

"Although, I kind of wish we were," Jess added. "Because your boy stories are so much better than any of ours."

"What's there to know?" I asked, lifting an eyebrow. "Because _I'm_ sure that Haley's told you pretty much anything of importance."

"I want to know what he looks like," Jess replied. "I'm gonna get to, though, if he's true to his word." She nodded toward the white board again. Why did I not think to erase that? I should've known that they would never leave me alone about it. And I wasn't really looking forward to it, not that it would be a big deal. But it still made me nervous, especially with my own trio of annoying friends here.

At least Emily wasn't here, too. Or the high school jokes would be back. She and Haley were ruthless. Family knew how to hit you the hardest.

We were ten minutes into the Hurricanes-Rangers game, each with a slice of pizza, and Haley and Jess with a beer in their hands. Jen declined a beer, having water instead, stating that she was designated driver, and I'd gotten a glass of sweet tea, in true southern fashion. And that's when my doorbell rang.

"Oh, Liney," Haley stated, taking a swig of her bottle, "Don't let your legs fall out from underneath you when you see him." Unfortunately, this gave Jess plenty of time to scramble toward the door to get a good look through the peep hole.

"Damn, Caroline," she whistled as she leaned back. "That's one fine specimen of the male species at your door."

"What?" I knew Mac was hot, but, considering the fact that he _was_ old enough to be my dad coupled with the knowledge of the kind of men Jessie normally went for, I wouldn't have pegged her for liking the view. I vaguely heard Jen making a joke in the background, Jess and Haley laughing, all three poised over my shoulder.

It was Flack. It was Flack standing outside my door. He told me to call him Flack yesterday. I remember that. When I asked him why, he said it made him feel old. I responded with the statement that I felt incredibly old when people called me Carol. And that, of course, left me with the imagery of the two of us sitting in rocking chairs in our eighties or nineties with children running around the yard in front of us.

Then I slapped myself, because I couldn't be thinking of things like that. And despite the fact that he chuckled, I was still betting on the fact that he thought I was a crazy.

But, I mean, what the hell was going on with the world these days? Someone upstairs was really trying to make me have a heart attack. I shot a glare over my shoulder, silently telling them to back away from the door, before opening it.

"Flack?" I questioned, looking him up and down. Nice suit, though today his tie, while still not entirely matching, was just plain ugly, I couldn't help but give him a grin. He would probably be sexy in anything he was wearing. That, and his eyes, which were locked on mine.

"Hey," he stated, sticking his hand out toward me. I looked down, seeing a key in it. Oh. Well, that's boring. "Mac asked if I'd drop this off. He got tied up at work."

"I hope you don't mean literally," I mumbled, taking the key from his hand. Silently, I wondered if Mac had specifically asked him or if he'd volunteered or something. But, despite the fact that I really wanted to know, I knew I'd never ask. That would also trigger awkward conversation.

Or it might trigger wild sex.

I wouldn't know, it's never happened to me.

I stepped out the door to put the key back in its spot under the small porcelain hunting dog that William had given me the last time he'd visited. I loved my brothers, but sometimes they had crappy gifts. Although, this piece of crap did come in handy. When I finished, the girls were pulling on their coats and heading out the doorway, while Flack stood awkwardly to the side.

"Where are you going?" I asked. What I was really saying was 'What the eff?' Haley grinned at me, as the twins had already made it to the elevator. She was already halfway drunk.

"We're going to watch the game at Jess's," she stated. What she was really saying was 'Hey, Flack. Caroline's watching the Rangers game, and we're going to leave so you can _both_ watch the Rangers game, _together_.' I hoped he didn't follow her language. "Bigger TV." She added as the elevator doors closed. Which, of course, meant 'We're the first to know if you have sex.' I found the added bit kind of insulting, because she knew I wasn't that kind of person.

And I can't believe I just analyzed a conversation like that.

Flack cleared his throat, as I was still staring at the elevator doors, completely dumbfounded. I'm sure my expression was absolutely attractive, too.

Not.

"I've, uh, got something for Mac, too," I murmured, turning back into my apartment. "And, uh, you can come in if you want," I added. I was really bad at attempting to flirt. If you could even call said attempts flirting. You probably wouldn't. But he followed me in.

So that was a good place to start, right?

_As always, x-posted at LJ._

_I realize nothing really happened in this chapter. But, I didn't really know how to actually write someone that's actually working the lab at the lab. And if I'd continued with Flack and Caroline first unofficial date, it probably would've gone on forever, so. This is roughly the self-imposed word limit I put on my chapters._

_Please drop a review to let me know what you think. Is there something I'm doing wrong, something I'm doing write, something you want me to write about, specifically? Is there not enough actual substance? That probably won't change much through the story, but it might if you guys feel like there's not enough happening. It is supposed to have a lot of randomness in it, though, hence the title._

_Yeah, so, anyway, let me know! And thanks for reading! :)_

_-Piper_


	4. New York Versus North Carolina

**Disclaimer: I don't own CSI: New York or Journey or the Rangers or the Hurricanes or Bass Pro Shops or the hunting channel or General Washington, for that matter. And I don't know much about hockey. I do own Caroline, Justin, William, Emily and Daddy Palmer, Boone, Haley Oakley, and Jess and Jen Hennessey.**

"Sorry for the mess, we were just watching the game," I stated, glancing around my apartment. There were empty bottles and pizza boxes on the coffee table, where Boone was trying, unsuccessfully, to pop one open. I gave her nose a smack, closing the only empty pizza box and picking up the empty bottles.

Flack was laying his coat over top of Mac's when I turned around. "Want something to drink?"

"Sure," he replied, loosening his tie. God that was hot. I wonder if he knew how hot. Probably not, or he would've been smirking at me, because that's how men work. They're cocky when they think they're turning you on. Guys like Flack, anyway.

"Beer?" I asked, he nodded. Well, that was simple, I mused as I wandered into the kitchen. I pulled out another bottle of beer, lazily popping off the cap. When I turned to lean on the refrigerator, what can I say, it's a bad habit of mine, I noticed that Flack was wandering. Not that there was anything wrong with that. It just made me kind of nervous. No lie.

"You really probably shouldn't just leave a key out in the hallway, you know." He took his beer from me, still doing a routine check of the apartment. That was weird. I wondered vaguely if all cops were like this. Aside from Mac, that is. He doesn't count. He wandered like this all the time. Something to do with an overactive head, I think. Insomnia does that to people.

"Everyone on the hall knows where it is," I replied, giving a laugh. He looked at me, stopping us, as I was trailing behind him. Boone was rubbing his leg. I wondered if that was awkward in the least. I wouldn't know, she only ever jumps on me.

"You think that's a good thing?" He seemed surprised.

"I know them, they're good people."

"They're all good people until they get motive," he took a swig of his bottle, turning around again to continue walking. Is it wrong of me to wish I were a bottle of beer?

"Just because someone has motive doesn't mean they did it, though, right?" I inquired, hoping to stall the inevitable.

"Touché," he gave me a grin. I stopped. He really needed to stop doing that. I'd only know him for a little under forty eight hours and he was already giving me heart stopping grins. This was bad. Really bad. "What's this?" I groaned. He'd reached the wall.

I joined him in my bedroom. The far wall, on the opposite side of the bed was one big mass of business cards. It _was_ weird, I'll grant you that. And there were a lot of clashing colors and designs. So, basically, it was kind of ugly. But it was important. It was a gift from Jen when I moved in, which would be why the center of the piece was artistic and matched and was actually fairly gorgeous. It had grown since then, it was always growing.

"It's not like creepy stalkerish things, if that's what you're asking," I muttered first, giving a slight smile when he gave me a look. "They all belong to friends, colleagues, family. So I have a little piece of everyone through the years, you know?"

"It's awfully bright on the eyes." I couldn't help the genuine smile that spread across my face then. But that didn't mean I was prepared for the laugh that followed.

"You think I'm crazy." Did I just say that out loud? 'Cause, you know, I knew he did, I knew pretty much all the people I met did. But I never actually came out and said it. Just like that. That was actually starting to make me wonder if I _was_ crazy. But he laughed in response.

"Maybe a little odd," he replied. "But not crazy. Not yet." I feigned a look of hurt. "Unless you want me to think you're crazy. I could give it a shot."

"No," I laughed again. It was weird how easy it was. How quickly I could be comfortable with him when yesterday was the most awkward experience I'd ever endured. "It's nice to have someone think I'm normal, even if it's only for a moment."

"I'm sure there are plenty of people who find you normal," he stepped up to the wall, gaining a closer inspection, as he nodded his head toward it.

"They all think I'm crazy," I grinned, "they've just learned to live with it." I watched him study the wall. I could tell he was trying to place any of the names, trying to see if he'd ever come across any of them. Like he was trying to judge my character. Or protect me. That's what everyone else that came into my apartment did. They liked to point out when I was being too forward or too accepting or too naive when I added cards. To protect me from the crazy city.

At least that's what William and Justin had said when they'd torn a few names off.

"So, what'd I do to wind up on your wall?" He asked, his finger lightly tracing the edge of his business card. Wow, that's something I was hoping he wouldn't notice. I blushed, looking down and finding Boone at our feet still. I bent down to pick her up. I honestly didn't know what to say, all I could do was shrug. But I could feel his eyes on me, and when I looked up he was grinning.

"A friend of Mac's is a friend of mine," I turned around to walk back toward the living room, back toward the game. I groaned at seeing the score. "You're kidding me."

"What's that?" He asked, right behind me. I jumped, catching Boone just before she hit the ground. I let her go after that; she bounded back toward the pizza. I hit his shoulder as he chuckled, walking past me to sit down on my sofa.

"The Canes should not be losing right now."

"What? Seriously? You're watching a Rangers game in New York and cheering for the opposing team?" He looked shocked, as he propped his feet up on my coffee table. I slipped onto the couch beside him, half facing him, half facing the TV, with my legs curled up under me.

"North Carolina born, Tennessee raised." I opened one of the pizza boxes, grabbing a slice and offering him a piece. "But I'm a North Carolina girl at heart. And the Canes always come first."

"And how long have you been in New York, again?" He asked, looking at me quizzically.

"Eight or nine years, give or take," I answered. "Not including the holidays and summers and the little break I had in schooling when I finished my Masters."

Again, I'd like no mention of the military fiasco.

"Nearly ten years and no one's converted you yet?" It was clear that hockey was something he was passionate about. Most people I had this conversation with just gave me a look and then moved on. Well, I did cheer for the Rangers anytime they were playing, so long as they weren't up against the Hurricanes. That made up for it when it came to most people.

"You don't know how hard the twins tried."

"Obviously not hard enough," he shook his head. And I'm really glad my phone started ringing, or I probably would've come out with something incredibly perverted. Journey was playing, so it was a text. I sighed, flipping it open.

_Is the game enough of a turn on?_

Haley. And Jess, no doubt. I wondered why Jen couldn't keep them under control until they passed out. I muttered a few choice words under my breath, responding with a 'you chose the wrong game for that.' And, okay, I'll admit I was kind of looking forward to the response on that, because being in the state they were in, they probably had absolutely no idea what I was saying.

"That was a cheap shot," Flack was muttering at the TV when I looked back up. The Canes were only down by two. And he was about to get really worked up.

_You can tell a lot about a man by the way he reacts to hockey._

Oh my God, Haley.

That's just awesome.

--

I untangled myself from the warm embrace of Don Flack in the early hours of the next morning, wondering why I let myself into positions like these. But I couldn't bring myself to regret falling asleep on the sofa next to him. He smelt amazing, I'm telling you, he was definitely rivaling the smell of Mac's coat, and he looked really attractive while he slept.

But then, he looked attractive anytime he did anything.

I began cleaning up the mess of pizza and bottles and glasses as I thought back to the rest of the night. Haley wouldn't leave me alone, so I'd turned off my phone in the stupidest way possible. I grunted as I dropped off the bottles in the kitchen, heading toward my room where I'd thrown it the night before. I hoped it still worked. It did, and there was a text from Jen saying 'sorry,' along with a slew of inappropriate comments from Haley and Jess.

I really hope that no one ever looks through my inbox. Ever. I'd probably die of embarrassment. But at least it still worked.

Flack had insisted the night before that he wasn't drunk. I didn't doubt that, but every time he'd get ready to leave it seemed that we'd introduce another topic and it'd be another hour before he would be ready to try again. We told each other stories, brief histories of ourselves. He said if he was going to be on my wall, he wanted to have a proper reason to be there.

We'd argued about hockey.

The Rangers had won. By one point. And it was a lucky shot, no joke. I had begrudgingly held out a twenty, after a bet we'd made, but he waved my hand away. And I would've pushed it more at that moment, but he smiles so pretty when he's trying to make you do what he wants you to. And he's a cop, so there's that.

And after the game I flipped to the hunting channel. Flack was surprised that there was such a thing. I'd laughed.

"Give it fifteen minutes," I'd replied. He wanted to get to know me; this was a good place to start. And fifteen minutes later, Justin's face had shown up on the screen. Granted it was camouflaged and you couldn't make out his features entirely, but his name flashed across the bottom and Flack had looked impressed.

"That's your brother?"

"One of them. The younger one," I could hear the pride ringing through my voice. And I'd grinned when a commercial for Bass Pro Shops came on.

"Was that you?" He'd looked slightly confused. I'd laughed.

"How else do you think I've managed to live in New York City for nearly ten years?" I asked, before I relayed the rough outline of my family's history and my Dad's business. And I had a few fun stories of my times working in Daddy's main store in my hometown of good old Chattanooga, Tennessee.

Not.

Flack had found them amusing, though, and it made me feel amazing that I could make someone like him laugh like that. It was just so weird to be comfortable and to feel like friends with someone that was so undeniably attractive. That didn't happen to me often.

Actually, Haley would argue it did. I've said it before, though, and I'll say it again, I _cannot_ help the fact that all the men in my life are attractive. And I knew that. But there weren't many I really and truly liked that I could be friends with and wasn't related to. The Palmers were a huge family and I was related to nearly everyone in Western North Carolina and Eastern Tennessee. It was ridiculous.

Friends, by the same token, were not romantic interests. I'd learned that long ago.

So I was kind of confused about where to go from here. It wasn't wrong of me to want something other than friendship with a guy, right? I wasn't so sure about the only having know him for two days thing, though.

And good Lord was I rushing things.

I was sitting on my bed, one of my hands running through my hair when I heard the door open and close. He probably thought I'd moved to sleep in my own bed. And he had a job, right; it wasn't like he was blowing me off. He was being a gentleman. Besides that, he didn't even have to come inside the night before, right?

I came back out into the living room, sitting back down on the couch and letting his smell surround me. I'm not kidding when I say he smells fantastic. Boone followed me, laying her head down in my lap. I noticed he'd taken Mac's coat with him. Which was fascinating to me, because I don't recall ever mentioning that that was what I had for Mac. Such was the way of a New York Detective, though, right? They're supposed to pick up on that sort of thing.

And on my white board, another note just below Mac's from the night before.

_Sorry I had to run out like I did. I hope you slept well. And maybe, if you're feeling up to it, you could come down to Sullivan's on Monday evening with the team from the lab. I promise I'll make sure you don't have any whiskey. I don't need Mac on my tail. See you then?_

I couldn't help it. As he'd already done so many other times in the short span of time I'd known him, he was making me grin again. He _was_ a gentleman. Seriously. I looked down at Boone.

"What am I going to do about this, Boone-dog?" I shook my head, running my hand up and down her fur. She rolled over onto her back, looking up at me with those eyes, bright blue, kind of like his.

My gosh, did I just compare him to a dog?

I laughed, rubbing her stomach. "You're one lazy dog."

I picked up my cell phone, moving through my contacts and hitting send. And can I just point out that, while I'm on the subject of my cell phone contacts, there are way too many J's in my contact list? Luckily, as far as I can remember, among the New York Crime Lab, those of whom I was now considering the serious possibility of a blossoming friendship, I don't recall any of them having a name beginning with a J. So, that was good. Equal rights for whole alphabet, right?

I started playing with Boone's ear as I waited on Emily to answer her phone. I could've called Jen, as I'm sure she would've been the only one not ready to cuss me out, but sometimes you just need to talk to your family.

That, and Em was supposed to be flying in this Thursday, anyway.

"Hello?" My sister's tired voice floated to my ear. I took a deep breath.

"I think I'm falling, Emmy. Hard and fast."

"Well, there's a shocker," she mumbled back at me.

"Speak clearer, Emily," I replied. "Mumbling is not becoming of you."

"Oh, yeah, since when do you know what's becoming and what's not?" I could tell that she was fumbling around her own apartment, probably trying to make it to the kitchen without tripping over any piles of paperwork and history books and notes on wars and crap.

I don't know how she lives.

"Seriously, Emily. I really mean it this time," I stated earnestly into the phone.

"Caroline, you're always serious and you always mean it," she sighed. I could just see her pinching the bridge of her nose. "Guys aren't and guys don't. It's just a fact."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, little sister," I mumbled back.

"Now who's mumbling?" She shot. She didn't miss a beat. She was trying to get me back on a happy note. "Look, Liney, I'm sorry, you woke me up and I had a long night last night."

"Oh, yeah? Have a nice date with General Washington?"

"Don't make fun of my profession and I won't make fun of yours."

"I don't have a profession yet. I'm still in school, which you can't make fun of because you were in school, too, at some point. I know that might feel like ages ago to you, but-"

"Caroline. Shut up." I laughed at her response. I would've come back with something witty, but she changed the topic. "So, this boy that you're madly in love with. Tell me about him so I can be prepared for Thursday."

_X-posted at livejournal, as always._

_I don't know if this is what I was planning on happening in this chapter. But, it is what it is, right? Unless you think it sucks, though, because that would just suck. Is it painfully obvious that I want to rush all this and get into the relationship, because I have some lovely images in my head of Flack and Caroline's future…_

_Of course, I need to know the name of Little Messer before I get too far (and, for the record, I like Lucy better, but they're probably going end up with something completely different)._

_I don't know, what do you think?_

_-Piper_


	5. Wine Over Whiskey

**Disclaimer: I don't own CSI: New York or Josh Turner or Airplane or any of the Presidents, obviously. I do own Caroline, William, Justin, Emily, Natalie, and Daddy Palmer, Wes, Jen and Jess Hennessey, and Boone.**

You could probably feel the anxiety rolling off my body in waves. Which would be why my class was having a conversation of its own, not really caring in the least for the introduction of Differential Equations.

And, okay, I admit introduction days were incredibly boring. I just wrote definitions and really short examples on the board. I did talk, yeah, but, really, I don't think anyone ever listened to it anyway, and I was used to not having half of them pay attention. I liked it that way.

There was absolutely no pressure in this classroom. And that was fantastic.

I bit my lip as I finished off the last example, setting down the chalk and whipping my hands. I murmured some words of finality, like I did every class, you know, the usual blur about office hours and having a good day and all that. And then I set to erasing the board as they started leaving.

I was thankful that, for once, Wes, the unofficial leader of my Calculus class, didn't make some sort of comment. Don't get me wrong, I love it when he talks. A lot. And I'm not, like, saying I'm in love with him, because I don't even think he's legal yet and that would be really weird.

And I'm digging a hole.

Anyway, what I meant to say was Wes is hilarious. And everybody loved listening to him talk because they never had any idea what was going to come next. And I liked that. It kept me prepared for anything in the classroom, which I was sure to need in the future as a teacher.

If I ever actually got a job that is. It's not like I really needed one, because, hey, guess what, Daddy's got money and he loves his little girls.

Okay, unfair of me. But it's true.

I felt my foot tapping rapidly, and was surprised to find myself so wrapped up in my thoughts that I didn't notice the noise I was making. Steel-toed boots. Right. Sometimes I just forget I have them on. But that's probably something I should work on remembering. I mean, what happens when I accidentally kick someone incredibly important and incidentally wind up getting arrested?

'Course, now I knew some boys down at the prescient. And that, alone, was enough to make me unable to stay in the classroom any longer.

So, I was really nervous about tonight. Monday night. My mind flashed back to my whiteboard. Sullivan's on Monday with the team from the lab. That was just great. I couldn't just ignore it, because they might want to ignore it but they wouldn't be able to because they would think I was sure to come. And that made perfect sense. It just sucked.

I didn't want to be in awkward positions throughout the entire night, as was bound to happen. Women I could handle, that was easy. You just studied them for a minute and then jumped right in. Like you were best friends all along. And okay, I mean, Mac and Danny Messer, I might be okay with just them. Maybe, if I didn't blurt my way into a felony or something. But Flack. I don't know. My realization wasn't doing wonders for my confidence.

And I didn't have any idea who else might be there. Which had the potential to be completely devastating.

Because it was apparently some sort of requirement to be attractive to get a job with the NYPD.

--

"Your middle name is Roosevelt?" Flack was giving me that look. The one where he was thinking something was completely crazy, and he was, basically, perplexed.

"Natalie was always big on the presidents," Mac commented. I nodded. Was it really that crazy that my mother loved the presidents that much that she gave us middle names of some of her favorites? Possibly. But, really, it could have been worse. My first name might be Roosevelt.

Imagine that.

"Well, at least I wasn't Caroline Coolidge or something like that. My brothers got stuck with alliteration, me and Emily lucked out," I stated, running my finger around the rim of my wine glass.

"Enlighten me," Flack murmured, still giving me that look. I wondered if he realized how extremely hot it was when he did that. I wouldn't think so, just because a guy with a look like that probably doesn't have the brain power to think about anything other than what was causing the look.

I snorted.

"William Washington, which I find much more amusing than anyone else, because secretly I think mom picked it one hundred percent on purpose-"

"World War One," Mac nodded. Thanks, Mac. I was starting to ramble already.

"And Justin Jefferson," I added. "But he hates it when you call him JJ. Not that he doesn't like his middle name or anything-"

"Caroline. You're rambling," a familiar voice cut in. I looked up at the redhead, not being able to resist sticking my tongue out at her.

"It's not my fault you think Justin's hot," I mumbled, resulting in a shove from her. "What're you doing here, _Jenny_?"

"Hey," she replied, brushing her bangs from her face, "I didn't leave you any inappropriate text messages. No hate." She moved to sit down on the other side of the table.

"You know each other?" Danny asked. I nodded while Jen shook her head again, setting her bottle down in front of her and hanging her purse on the chair behind her. Knowing that Danny was off limits made it easy for me to fall into an easy going friendship with him. We'd swapped a few jokes when I'd entered and I'd had a short conversation with the Wife, Lindsay, I'd discovered her name was, in which I found out they had a little girl.

And she was probably absolutely adorable.

Which I would know if we hadn't gotten on to the discussion of middle names, as everybody got distracted by learning mine, and Danny's wallet never managed to leave his pocket. So much for pictures, right?

"Unfortunately," she stated. I gave a look of mock shock.

"I'm wounded, Jen," I took a sip of my wine. "I had a class with her twin sister, we became friends and surprise, 'I have a twin sister' just came out one day and I was totally forced to be friends with her, too."

"Really? I didn't know you felt that way about it," Jen lifted her bottle to her lips. I grinned.

"You know I love you, Jen Jen," I stated. "And I would hug you but you ran to the other side of the table."

"Go me," she muttered. And, yeah, my jaw was probably close to the table. There was a rousing chorus of laughter surrounding me. I took a gulp of wine this time. Maybe I was getting a little tipsy, but, honestly, wine didn't compare to whiskey. I held whiskey down better than wine.

Remind me again what I'm doing in a bar?

"Aren't I just so lucky that your job is helping out at the prescient?"

"Yes."

"Yeah, well, screw you, too," I scowled. Sometimes the people I knew were the most irritating of all. I stood up, pulling my coat with me and pulling it over my shoulders. "I've got to get going or I'm going to be sitting here drinking wine into the morning and I will never fall asleep. And I've got a class to teach tomorrow."

"Liney, you are pathetic." Jen was totally not helping matters. And I totally don't get my friends. Saturday night they had been all for setting me up with Flack, and now Jen was totally looking to embarrass me. Just wait, next she's going to throw out the fact that I go to sleep at ten-

"Can't miss your ten o'clock curfew, right?" See. Told you. Damn. I hate you right now, Jen. Or maybe I just hate the fact that I'm going to be a lame old woman before I even hit thirty.

I had no idea I was that boring until that moment.

I let myself slip back into the chair. Well, this sucks. And it was Monday. Which just means I have like, I don't know, double suck. Which sucks. A lot. Obviously.

Okay, wine clouding my brain.

"I was just kidding with you, Liney, you know that," Jen was leaning across the table at me. "I know you like your sleep." It was true, I slept way too much. I swear if you were to add up all the time I've been alive, and what I'd been doing during that time, you'd probably find half my life was spent sleeping. I'm so boring.

"Wish I could sleep," Danny muttered. He did look tired.

"She'll be sleeping through the night before you know it," Lindsay grinned at her husband, leaning up to give him a kiss. That totally made me feel old. She was probably younger than I was, and she already had her successful career and a blossoming family and I just sucked.

"I'm so lame," I mumbled. I heard Flack laugh.

"I don't know much about lame-"

"Only because you think you're the cool kid," Danny cut Flack off.

"So, I can't help the fact that I was the cool kid."

"That why you didn't bother with college?" Flack glared at him.

"You're just upset because you were the dorky little kid, weren't you?" I grinned at Danny. He glared at me. "Wow, we're on a roll for glaring around the table. Who's next? Someone say something that I can give a glare to." Jen opened her mouth. "Anyone except Jen."

"Be careful, or Danny'll show you what kind of geek he is," Stella stated with a smile. Lindsay laughed while Danny shook his head, taking a sip of his drink. I was missing something here. I liked Stella, though. She was older than I was, for sure, so I didn't feel too bad about myself. Then, again, she had an extremely successful career and she might as well have been a freaking genius.

Just my luck that I wind up with all the smart kids.

And I was starting to get a headache. Or the wine was taking over. Why does my life suck so much? But I couldn't stop a grin when a new song started playing. I glanced around, my eyes settling on the cute, geeky lab tech. I hopped up from my seat between Flack and Mac, yes, I snorted again, and walked over to him.

"Come dance with me, Adam." He looked hesitant but joined me anyway. He was incredibly graceful for someone so timid and burly looking. I smiled at him as he easily twirled me to him and let his arm fall around my waist. New York City bars really should play country music more often.

Especially the deep, sexy tones of Josh Turner. Now that man was hot. And scruffy and country, down home to the bone. Sometimes it doesn't get much better than a good old boy. Adam's arm wrapped more securely around me.

"You're good at this," I murmured as he dipped me, a grin on his face.

"You think so?" He asked, I nodded. "I mean, it's not like I've done much dancing."

"You're more than good," I started, "You're great." He gave me a smile, twirling me again. He was good, I wasn't lying. That made me nervous, too, by the way. Because he was definitely an attractive male, and he couldn't have been that much younger than me. Though I definitely thought he was.

I don't know. And I don't know when I started comparing him to Flack, but I did somewhere along the line. Because when the final chords of the song played and I spared a glance back at the table, his blue eyes staring back at me made me realize that I had just been thinking about him.

This was getting a little out of hand.

"Well," I stated, blushing a bit as I moved back to my seat between the boys. "Thanks for the dance. You'll be a real catch for someone someday, Mr. Ross." I don't know what made me do it, but I leaned up to give him a kiss on the cheek.

Holy crap, I should not be allowed to have alcohol. Flack seemed a little tense when I sat back down. I turned to speak to Mac, but he looked deep in thought, leaning back in his chair with his arm across the back of mine. Is it awful of me to say that I really liked that fact? I felt a little bit of warmth in my stomach just looking at it.

"You're a good dancer," Flack murmured from my other side. I gave him a smile, feeling the butterflies filling the warm spot that had been there moments before. I'll admit, I was surprised that I didn't just have a heart attack the moment I had walked into the bar an hour before.

"Thanks," I finished off my glass of wine. It must have _really_ been getting to me, 'cause next thing I knew I was coming out with this gem, "We'll have to dance sometime." He laughed in response, though.

"Only if you can handle two left feet," he replied, finishing his beer as well. I shook my head.

"I think our height difference is going to be the bigger problem." To prove my point I looked up so that I could meet his eyes. He laughed again. He needed to stop just being so gorgeous. It was hardly fair to any woman. I broke contact, glancing around.

Seemed like everyone was winding down. Lindsay and Danny had already headed out, and Stella was on the way, along with Adam. I looked at Jen.

"You going back to Julliard?" I asked. She shook her head.

"I'm gonna crash with Jess tonight," she gave her head another shake, moving her bangs from her eyelashes. I was tempted to say something about it, but, considering last time I mentioned it to her sister my head nearly got ripped off, I managed to refrain.

"Sure you don't wanna crash with me and Boonie?" I asked, giving her a winning smile.

"Tempting," she gave me a face. "Wait up." She headed out, catching up to Stella and Adam. I stood up, knocking Mac's arm on the way as Flack stood up beside me.

"Sorry," I mumbled. It sucks being female sometimes, can I just point that out? It was _completely_, one hundred percent unfair, the things men could do to us. I'm sure anyone else would recognize my plight.

"I'll walk you home," Mac stated. Mac was always stating things more than having a full conversation with me. It was like he was attempting to be fatherly, which I found interesting, because it's not like he'd ever been a father before.

And I'm glad I've never said that out loud, because just thinking it made me feel slightly guilty. Besides that, this was _Mac_ I was talking-thinking about. My first crush. Surely having him as a father figure, despite the fact I already had one, was the best I could hope for, all things considered.

Yes, I was just thinking about that line from Airplane. Don't call me Shirley. I have issues. But, anyway, I was always very affectionate with my father, so the possibility of Mac acting like my father really couldn't be a bad thing. For sure.

The men let me head out in front of them. That was another thing that got me. When they're gentlemen. How was that fair? Even if you didn't like a guy, you had to be friendly with them if they were being gentlemanly with you. So unfair. Seriously.

I breathed in the cold New York air. It felt like it was never warm here to me. Not that I was necessarily complaining. I preferred it being cold outside to hot, but it was undoubtedly true, if you're asking my opinion, that the Carolinas and Tennessee had the best weather, period. I mean, North Carolina _does_ have everything you could want. Mountains, beach, hills, flatland. Really, anything you want.

So. I turned around, facing Flack. He really was incredibly tall. Have I mentioned that? I mean, Mac was a good five inches or so taller than me, so Flack might as well have been a foot taller. I kind of felt like a midget.

"I'll, uh, thanks for inviting me," I fumbled for words. I didn't know what to say, I didn't know if this would be a weekly occurrence, I didn't know if I'd really see him again for awhile. I was sure I'd see him again, though, I can tell you that. New York City might have billions of people, but there were only so many tall, dark, and sexy detectives on the list.

"I'm glad you came," he replied. I stepped forward.

"I'll see you sometime, I guess," I smiled, surprising him with a loose hug. I could tell I'd surprised him, because he seemed to tense a moment before relaxing and hugging me back.

"Yeah, I guess," he backed up. "I'll see you tomorrow, Mac, undoubtedly." Mac nodded, and we watched him disappear down the street. I turned around and started walking, Mac beside me with his coat in his hand.

"Are you really not cold at all?" I asked, pulling my jacket closer and zipping it up.

"You get used to the New York weather," he stated with a smile. I smiled again, deciding to test my father theory. It was kind of surprising that I managed it, but it felt good once I did. My hand locked with his. And he didn't pull away, as I'd seen him do years before. I had that warm feeling again. Even though I knew he was just being fatherly for me. Or maybe he knew I was a little drunk.

"Emily's flying in Thursday," I threw out. Hey, he knew her, too. I wasn't that special that I was the only person Mac Taylor knew.

"Oh yeah?" I nodded. "What's she coming in for?"

"To see me, I guess. I mean, she's got an interview for a new job on Monday, but that's in DC, so."

"What job?" He seemed genuinely surprised. I laughed.

"I know my Dad's rich, but we're not really going to waste his money on an education and then not try to make a little ourselves," I paused to look at him. He nodded slightly. "Anyway, she's been working up at Lookout Mountain, Point Park, you know." He gave me a look. "Civil War." I could see the recognition in his face. "But she's always had her heart set on the Smithsonian, and she's finally got an offer. So maybe she'll finally get her dream job."

"I'm sure she will," Mac replied. Another statement. He was really good at statements. The remainder of our conversation was just a selection of nothingness. I don't remember much of it, but I'm sure I said something embarrassing. Because that's what I do around Mac. And Flack. And any other guy I'd ever liked.

"Thanks for bringing me home," I fumbled with getting the key in the lock, bending down as the door opened to catch Boone before she could run out. I gave her ears a scratch. "I came home, Boone-dog."

"Hey, Boone," Mac murmured, giving her a scratch. She looked satisfied, so I let her back into my apartment. "You should call me when Emily gets in, I'd like to see her." I nodded, slightly frustrated with him, though, I'll admit. I don't want Emily's teasing, too. I was planning on glossing over the fact that Mac Taylor had walked back into my life.

"Okay," I replied. Before I hugged him. And it was pathetic, yes, but I closed my eyes against his chest to breathe him in. What was with these New York Detectives? "You smell good."

I felt him chuckle before I heard him. My eyes opened as I realized that I'd said that out loud. Again, I needed to stop speaking. Period. I pulled back.

"I'll see you soon." And then I'd nodded and turned around closing my door and leaning against it. If I'd done that with just wine in my system, I couldn't imagine what I'd done when I'd had four or five shots of whiskey.

That sobered me up.

_X-posted, as always._

_Life's A Novel: I just hope it'll be up to par, and, hopefully, it doesn't get too insanely random. :) Thanks for leaving a review, though! I really appreciate it._

_I don't know if I'm good at writing large groups at all. I don't really feel like I am. You can let me know before I attempt another at some point. I'm kind of limited with it being in first person. But, you know. Just as with any other perspective it's got it's positives and negatives._

_Let me know what you think! :)_

_-Piper_


	6. Ground Zero

**Disclaimer: I don't own CSI: New York or The Who. I do own Caroline, Emily, Justin, William, Jared, Brayden, Melanie, and Mom and Daddy Palmer, Boone, Haley Oakley, Jen and Jess Hennessey, and Tyler Everett and his sister.**

Friday found me coming home to an empty apartment.

And that didn't really bother me. Besides, I figured since Emily wasn't really doing anything anyway, while I was off kind of sort of having a job slash being in school, she might as well be walking my dog for me. I mean, I _was_ feeding her and putting a roof over her head for the entire weekend. She never did that for me.

Then again, when I was down in Chattanooga I was staying in my actual bedroom in my parent's house.

And, uh, I was totally the only person she knew in New York.

Except Mac. But he doesn't count because I seriously doubt that she'd just ask to stay with him. Or Haley. Actually, come to think of it, considering there _are_ so many hundreds of thousands of people in the 'City That Never Sleeps,' she probably did know someone other than me and Mac and Haley. But we'll just say I'm not betting on them being, you know, BFFs wanting a slumber party and all that.

So I busied myself with thoughts of Calculus, because, yes, I _am_ a math geek. And I can't really help it. Maybe it's a problem. I don't know. I kind of like to avoid going to see a doctor if at all possible. And contrary to the popular belief that if you don't go to the doctor very often you probably just don't like doctors, I actually didn't mind the doctors themselves, or even what they were doing, except maybe the part where they intentionally made you gag, I just didn't like having to spend four hours sitting in a tiny little room. In which the majority of the time was spent staring at the wall.

But I guess their walls are slightly more interesting than mine, anyway. And it did give you time to think. And then they're all like 'I gotta check for strep' and there's a wooden stick in your mouth and your eyes start to tear up and, really, you don't understand why the hell your parents had to drag you to sit in this stupid doctor's office when all you wanted to do was sleep. Christ.

Anyway, after I'd finished grading a load of papers I spared a glance at my clock. And then I started to worry. Emily and Boone hadn't come back yet. I'd been home for over an hour. I'd been grading papers that I'd only taken from my kids two days ago, and everyone knew that I was kind of a slack on grading. But that was mostly because their general, everyday homework was online and was graded for me. My point is I totally should _not_ have been sitting on my couch grading homework for an hour when Emily had flown in just to see me.

So that only left me to wonder where she'd gone.

I didn't know. I tried calling her, several times, which is odd because normally people are calling _me_ seven hundred times, and leaving messages and being, in general, obnoxious. But I'm usually sleeping, as that does take up pretty much fifty percent of my life, and I'm pretty sure no one's ever been incredibly worried about me.

Emily was _so_ not being fair right now if she was trying to get back at me for that.

The next hour was spent wandering around my apartment, re-hitting the send button every five minutes or so, listening to The Who for all of a minute and a half, leaving a weird message that _might_ make sense if you strung them all together, and then pacing again. I mean, I was really worried about my baby sister being in a city she wasn't exactly familiar with, but she had to go and _take my dog_, too?

Yeah, she definitely wasn't being fair.

And when I'd managed to wander down to the park where I normally took Boone, and up and down the alley ways near my apartment, some of which were incredibly sketchy, by the way, I kind of started to freak out and may or may not have called my older brother.

Considering there was nothing he could do to actually help me, short of jumping on a plane or in his car himself, I called the only other person that came to my mind at that moment. Which was just because, embarrassingly enough, I'd sort of been daydreaming about him while I was grading. Grading papers only takes like forty percent of your brain power, okay?

Anyway, before I knew it I was staring into the gorgeous blue eyes of Don Flack, Jr.

--

We drove around for another thirty minutes before I thought I saw someone that looked like her. At Ground Zero.

Well, damn. I was kind of hoping we wouldn't be getting into this. But the sight of my sister staring through the fence with tears running down her face and her hands grasping at the chain around her neck made my heart ache, so much so that I was no longer aware of the fact that my heart was racing just from being in such close proximity to Flack.

"Emmy," I murmured, wrapping her up in my arms. She dropped Boone's leash and at that moment, I'll admit, I was grateful I had Flack with me, because he easily bent down and picked my gangly dog up. And, as weird as it sounds, it was slightly satisfying to see the apparent worry written across his brilliant countenance.

"It still hurts so much, Liney," she mumbled.

"I know, Em, I know." I didn't know what to say to her. But I needed to get her home.

I managed to get my sobbing sister into the back of my F-250 before turning to look at Flack. He looked confused, but there was still that hint in his eyes, like he wanted to stay out of it, but, really, he wanted to help. I gave him a light smile.

"Thank you," I stated. He nodded, scratching Boone's ears. Her tail thumped in appreciation against his torso. And, honestly, if it weren't for the fact that I was still concentrated on Emily in my back seat, I would probably have died then and there from the overload of how insanely attractive he was.

Really. It was insane.

"You want me to drive you?" He asked. How could any man possibly be this sweet?

"I think I've got it, thanks," I replied, letting out a downhearted laugh. Which I'm pretty sure he could tell. "Besides, I should probably take care of her on my own." What I actually wanted to say was 'besides, you probably couldn't maneuver my over sized Ford truck out of the tiny little parking space I got it in,' but, somehow, that didn't really seem appropriate.

"I'll take Boone for a few hours, then, how's that?" He gave me a hesitant smile, like he didn't know whether it was appropriate to be smiling or not. I didn't know whether it was either, to be honest. This was still new to me, Emily being the way she was. It had only been a year. "Caroline?"

"Yeah," I started, "yeah, that'd be great."

What a New York Detective was going to do with a six month old German Sheppard/Labrador Retriever puppy, I honestly had no idea.

--

When I finally managed to console Emily enough to get her to sleep, I wandered out to find Flack on my couch, and could hear the faint noises of Boone chomping away at her food. And I couldn't stop myself from laughing.

Yeah, I realize now I do officially sound like a complete and utter lunatic, but sometimes everything just builds up and it comes out in the strangest of ways. And Flack, surprisingly, didn't look at me like I was, but just lifted his eyebrow, adding a small amount of curiosity to his obviously worried expression.

I'd probably be worried to if I had been listening to someone crying through the walls in an apartment I'd only been in like...three times. Then again, he knew where my spare key was. So, I don't know, that made him privy to intimate details of my life, as it were.

"Do you want something to drink?" I asked, getting my laughter under control.

"A beer would be great," he sighed. I sighed, watching him lean back into the seat. He must have had a long day after we parted.

Well, he had been watching my puppy. Which reminded me.

"Have I thanked you yet today?" I handed him a beer, sitting down beside him with my own in my hand. He smiled.

"Yes, you have. Multiple times, in fact."

"I'm sorry, I just didn't know what do to, New York's a huge city-"

"Caroline. It's okay." He'd already started saying my name as a sentence in and of itself. That was definitely a sign that he'd been around me too much. I swear it was some sort of requirement to be friends with me. Everyone did it, mom, dad, William, Justin, Emily, Haley, Jess, Jen. Hell, seven year old Brayden, five year old Jared, and three year old Melanie were doing it. Granted, Mel was still working on making actual, complete sentences. But Jared and Brayden, really?

"You want to tell me what happened?" Flack asked, quietly. And I must have looked appalled or something, because he promptly followed it up with a "You don't have to."

"No, it's okay," I murmured while I tried to rearrange my face. "It's just family stuff, but if you want to hear." I trailed off, my voice dying out, and suddenly I found the apparent split end at the end of the strand of hair in my face incredibly interesting. Actually, it reminded me of the fact that I hadn't had my hair cut in somewhere around a month's time and that needed to be remedied.

"If you need someone to talk to, I'm all ears." I glanced up at him. He was looking at me with some expression in his eyes that I couldn't read. Something that perplexed me, and, needless to say, I got a little distracted.

"Why?" And getting distracted apparently made me into an incredibly rude person. I should work on my people skills sometime in the near future. He looked taken aback for a moment before he responded.

"I'm worried about you." And I could see the truth behind it in his eyes. "Your sister's got you to worry about her, but someone's got to worry about you." I must have been looking perplexed again. And, wow, didn't he know how to make a girl feel warm and fuzzy inside.

Damn, Flack. I should never have been allowed to meet you. Ever.

But, and I'm not going to lie here, I suddenly realized that _Calculus_ was what let me meet him, like I'd somehow missed that before, and I couldn't stop the true, genuine grin from overwhelming my features. And he gave me that quizzical look again, but I managed to gloss over that.

"Emily met the love of her life when she was fifteen. Some people are lucky like that," I smiled at him, jumping right in to avoid any awkwardness after his statement and my oddball reaction. "His name was Tyler Everett, and he'd just moved to Chattanooga from some little town in Jersey. One little town to another, right?"

I gave a short laugh when I noticed that this probably wasn't exactly the best way to start. He was probably kind of confused. What can I say; I was a confusing sort of person. And besides that, I could smile and laugh when I remembered Emily and Tyler happy together in happier times.

"Anyway, his sister hadn't come; she was in college already, here, in NYC. And she was working as a firefighter, her chosen profession, while she finished up the last of her classes. So she was fully fledged on September Eleventh." I think I might have mumbled the last part, but he heard me. I knew he did. Because I'd suddenly realized that his arm was behind me, and my head was getting closer and closer to his shoulder.

"And you probably know what happened next," I started again, easing myself up slightly. I felt his arm stiffen beneath me, but when I didn't pull completely away he seemed to relax again. "Anyway, it was obvious to anyone who'd ever seen them that Tyler and Emily were in love. And, at sixteen there wasn't much they could do about it. But they promised to get married as soon as they could. So it was set for Em's eighteenth birthday."

I looked up at him and saw him nod ever so slightly at me. I wondered vaguely if he was like this in the interrogation room. Except, I imagine, he was probably a lot angrier and mean looking. The intimidation factor and all that.

Or maybe not. I wouldn't know because I'd never been in an interrogation room. And I was kind of planning on keeping it that way.

"Tyler had enlisted by that point in time, so the wedding was put off for a while, while he was in basic. But he was dead set on marrying my sister before he was shipped out for a tour of duty. He didn't know that Emily'd gotten pregnant on their wedding night until he'd been overseas for three months. He managed, somehow, to be home for the birth of his boy, though. Something I think my daddy had a great deal to do with. He was home for about a year, when Jared, their son, was about two. And then about a year ago, Emily got the news."

I felt myself tearing up, choking on my words, but I didn't want to cry. Not with Flack beside me. Not when I'd spent so much time trying to help Emily put herself back together. But the truth was, I'd never really had the time to deal with my brother-in-law's death. And, I might not have loved him as much as Emily did, I didn't think anyone could, but I did love him. Like I was supposed to, he was just like my little brother that I never got.

And it hurt _me_ that his little boy probably wouldn't even remember him. And before I knew it, I'd found my face buried in Flack's chest, and I could feel one arm wrapped around my torso while his other hand was running over my hair.

As pathetic as it was, that only made me cry more, because it simply _was not possible_ that one man could be this wonderful. Especially not one I'd, for all intents and purposes, just met. Because I didn't have a clue why he was putting up with this, with me. I couldn't even begin to wrap my head around why, as I felt myself drifting, I also felt his lips brush against my forehead and my weight being lifted off the couch.

And when I woke up the next morning to the empty, white ceiling above my bed, and Boone lying next to me, sleeping, I couldn't help but wonder what was wrong with me.

Because something definitely was. I just didn't know what it was yet.

_X-posted to livejournal, as always._

_Sorry it's a bit shorter than normal, and more depressing, and that it's taking me more time to get around to it. I kind of blame the finale for that, Flack being depressed moved me into my depressing writing mood, as opposed to the more happy go lucky outlook that Caroline normally has (hence the one-shot I posted after the finale aired). But the Emily/Tyler storyline's been there from the get go, and since she was coming to New York, I figured I might as well…And I can lay the rest of the blame on the fact that I'm back in school for a little while, so I've got less time (especially 'cause you've got to block out three hours for the reruns! ;))._

_Anyway, I haven't forgotten or anything. And thanks so much to Life's A Novel for reviewing and to everyone that's added the story to alerts or favorites. It means a lot. :)_

_-Piper_


	7. Freaking Genius

**Disclaimer: I don't own CSI: New York. Or Balsam Range. I do own Caroline, Emily, William, Justin, Amy, Brayden, and Jared Palmer, Jen and Jess Hennessey, Haley Oakley, and Boone.**

It didn't take me long to decide that I wasn't going to worry about what was wrong with me. Maybe I just felt like being spontaneous. Scratch that, I _know_ I just felt like being spontaneous or the entire course of the next day would have never happened, ever.

Feeling as worn out as I was in the morning, that was kind of strange. I mean, if you're tired you're not generally down for getting some good old fashioned exercise. Not that it was intense, or anything. I'm actually not overly fond of exercising, though I really should be. I do have a muscle mass to back myself up, though, so, that counts for something, right? Even if I can only run the length of a football field before getting tired. But, hey, I reasoned, if I could catch up to whatever it was I was chasing, because, let's face it, why else would I be running, within that length, it really wouldn't matter.

I did jog a bit when I took Boone out that morning, being careful not to wake Emily on the way out. I don't understand how sleep patterns vary across families; can I just point that out? When I'm asleep, it's like, I don't know, there could be a rock concert going on in my living room and I'd never notice. Emily wakes up when something brushes against her skin.

She told me things would change when I had a kid of my own.

And I snorted.

I was twenty seven; I wasn't really feeling the prospect of having children in today's world. Especially when my _younger_ sister had a _five year old_. That makes me feel so old sometimes. Besides, most people these days had kids in their early twenties, and stopped around thirty. I only had three years left, if I were to go by that logic. And, considering that nine months of those three years would have to go to the pregnancy, and the fact that I'd, you know, have to _fall in love_ and _get married_ before those nine months, I was pretty crushed for time.

Even if I extended it to thirty three. Which I could handle, I guess. If Amy was having a kid at thirty three, and William was cool with being thirty five and fathering said child, I might be okay with that. Then again, guys' ages don't really matter when it comes to having kids. I mean, Justin was thirty and his prospects weren't looking any better than mine at the moment. But I know he's going to be a father one day. One way or another.

By the way, your brother's sex life isn't a fun thing to think about.

When I got back to my apartment, Boone had happily wandered into Emily's room. I heard her heading for the shower and took that as an okay to make noise. And I made noise in the only sensible way there was to do so. Music. And I might have attempted a little bit of cooking while I was at it. Not that I was good at cooking, hence the 'might,' and I especially wasn't good at cooking while I was dancing around in my kitchen barefoot.

Though, personally, I thought all cooking should be done to music.

"Sometimes," I heard Emily's voice before I saw her, yelling over the music. "Sometimes, I think you're just a fifteen year old stuck in a twenty seven year old's body." She turned the music down a bit, giving me a cheeky smile when I gave her a slight glare. She moved over to sit down behind at the edge of my kitchen, picking Boone up on the way. I groaned at her.

"Why'd you do that?" I picked up my puppy easily with one hand, which was surprising, since Boone wasn't getting smaller as the days passed. One look at her giant feet and you could tell she was going to be a monster. And I didn't need her up on my counter before she could jump up there herself.

"Oh, come on," Emily rolled her eyes. "You're _not_ going to eat whatever it is that you're 'cooking.'" She used air quotes. Who does that?

"Emily!" I was offended. She smiled lightly, looking down into the mug of coffee that I'd set in front of her. "I _do_ know how to make coffee," I remarked. She didn't look too excited about that prospect. She was just sort of...staring at it. Seriously, I'm not _that_ awful at making things in the kitchen. Besides, it's not like _coffee_, of all things, was something I could mess up. It was just _coffee_.

"I know," she mumbled. I sighed, setting down the knife that I'd been using to cut up meat for the omelets I'd been attempting to make, and turning the music down even lower. Appropriately, my favorite slow song on the album came on.

"Emily," I started, dragging out the last syllable of her name. And she looked up at me, directly in the eyes, and laughed. Laughed. Well, at least I know I'm not the only one who's weird like that.

"Liney," she managed, still shaking from her laughter, "I'm okay." I gave her a look that was clearly questioning her resolution, and she easily reached over and smacked me upside the head.

"Lee," I started, sternly, "We may be sisters, but I'm the _older_ sister, and, as the _younger_ sister, _you_ are not allowed to hit _me_ upside the head."

"Oh really?" Luckily, I raised my hands to block her before she could hit me again. I swatted her back, and she relaxed back in her seat, a smirk ever present on her features.

"So," I started, returning to my chopping, "Have you talked to my favorite nephew this morning?"

"Don't let Brayden hear you say that," she stated, but nodded away. I laughed, turning around to work on the stove.

"Oh, Em, don't you know? Jared's only my favorite when I'm around you or him. Besides that, how'd you know I was talking about Jared? I might actually have been talking about Brayden. You know what assuming does, Lee." I turned away from the egg concoction once again, where Emily was shaking her head, arms crossed. "What?"

"It's time to stop listening to depressing music, Liney," she paused, trying to read my reaction. I stuck my tongue out at her. But it was quickly drawn back in, and my jaw was dropping instead. "Or else your hot New York Detective's never going to notice you."

"It's not depressing, Emmy, it's gorgeous. Balsam Range is composed of freaking geniuses," I replied, turning away from her once again.

"Caroline." She waited until I turned around and looked at her. That was everyone's favorite usage of my name, the sentence. Which sounds vaguely like a weird musical when I say it like that 'my name, the sentence.' Or a really random book title, or something. Don't ask me what it would be about.

God, I needed to be on caffeine.

"This Flack," she started, while I hid somewhat behind my freshly filled mug of coffee. And, yeah, okay, maybe when I tasted it myself there was a little bit of reason for Emily to be questioning it, too. "Do you really like him as much as you said you did on the phone?"

"I said it, didn't I?" I responded. How else do you respond to that? A 'yes' was out of place, I wasn't actually dating the guy, and, really, he was pretty far out of my reach when compared to the guys I normally dated. Not that they were bad guys, or anything. They just weren't, you know, tall, dark, sexy, and a Detective. An openly, clearly badass one, at that.

"Well," she was definitely using the sister tone of voice, "I approve of your choice. Little Liney's all grown up." I laughed, ignoring the last part of statement. Did she really think I needed her approval? She was twenty six! And, yeah, maybe that year of difference didn't seem like a lot to you, but it meant, very explicitly, that I was older. If anyone was going to be giving approval here, it was going to be me. And I'd done that several years ago. I just needed my brothers' approval, and my parents' and such. I _wanted_ Mac Taylor's approval, too, but I don't think I'd just come right out and say that.

Then again, I did _hold his hand_ the whole way back to my apartment the other night.

I smacked my forehead just thinking about it. And then a little harder when I realized that I was thinking about needing approval for being in a relationship with a guy I'd realized early on I didn't have much of a shot at.

What the hell, Emily?

"Should I start calling you Carol, now?" She was laughing at me. Seriously, what the eff?

"Emily Palmer," I all but growled. She was still glowing with mirth at my outright frustration and anger.

"Fine, fine. Liney it is," she held up her hands as a sign of backing off. "So, Liney. Let's do something, then."

I had no idea those words would mean hanging out in a bar with half of the entirety of the New York Police Department.

--

Apparently it was some sort of party. Like, hardcore partying. For police officers, anyway. Which basically just means they were all getting wasted. Fun way to spend a Saturday night if you didn't have to work tomorrow. And, from the looks of things, no one had to work tomorrow.

Actually, it kind of made me feel a little concerned for my safety. I mean, being in the bar with the hundreds of police officers I was cool with. Going back outside into the night when I was leaving all the cops behind...that was another story.

"How the hell did you even find out about this?" I muttered, ordering a couple of beers for the two of us.

"A certain Detective named Mac Taylor called while you were at school yesterday," Emily smirked at me. Great. It was coming again. I didn't even have the will power to try to stop it.

"He _does_ still make her go weak at the knees." Haley's voice interrupted.

"Now that I actually know which Mac Taylor you're talking about," I heard Jen mumbling. Which undoubtedly meant that Jess was with her. I looked up at the bartender, holding up three fingers to signal for three more beers. He gave me a smile that held a bit of pity in it.

What was this? Pick on Caroline day? If I had known that Emily being in town was going to cause all this commotion I never would have agreed to let her stay with me. Okay, maybe I would have, but I can pretend I wouldn't for the sake of being angry with her. Even though I kind of felt guilty about that, too, after she'd cried her heart out last night.

"Where's Jess?" I lifted my brow, at the empty spot next to Jen. Now, you might think you're crazy when you're seeing double of a person. I think I'm crazy when I don't. At least when said person is Jen Hennessey. Not that I should, really, because they go to different schools, and I saw Jess without Jen all the time. Okay, rephrase, something about that exact moment and not seeing Jess next to Jen made me feel like I was completely wasted, and my eye sight was clearly the first thing to go.

"Over there," Jen pointed toward the right of where we were standing. She was with a guy. Great, she'd probably have a cop boyfriend before the night was up. And where would I be? At home with Boone. Doing nothing but procrastinating and dreaming about having a cop boyfriend. Damn, I was pathetic. "Apparently he's insanely intelligent."

"Oh, yeah. Like a mini-freaking genius?" Haley asked. Which I don't think Jen understood, but Emily answered right back.

"I think he's one of the full fledged freaking geniuses," she stated. Yeah, Jen had no idea. Most of the world didn't. Just the select few elite who had been in our high school physics class, where we were mini-freaking geniuses, in training to be freaking geniuses.

Yeah, maybe it sounds strange, and even though I hate physics, that class was the greatest ever. Coolest teacher I ever had.

"Whatever," I mumbled, interrupting Haley before she could get another word out on Mac Taylor. I could clearly see her thoughts returning to him. And besides, I was feeling spontaneous. I was. I wouldn't have agreed to come if I hadn't been. I would have forced Mac to choose a different venue for meeting up with us, if not making him come to my apartment.

Is it wrong that that thought led me down an inappropriate sequence of after thoughts?

"Where you going, Liney?" Emily asked. I just shook my head, taking off with the extra beer I now had. It didn't help that I could distinctly hear Haley muttering something about 'going to find her boyfriend.' Especially because I found myself wondering, in the back of my mind, whether she meant Mac or Flack. And, no, that will never cease being funny. Rhyming names.

I snorted.

In retrospect, maybe I should have hung out with Emily. But I couldn't bring myself to regret doing anything about, with, or for the man I found myself standing next to.

Let me reiterate. _I was feeling spontaneous._

"Caroline," he grinned at me. I smiled back, because even spontaneity can't stop the rumble of the butterflies in the pit of my stomach. What did you call butterflies when they were in a huge group, anyway?

"Flack," I offered the beer his direction. He laughed, downing the one resting on the edge of the pool table we were standing next to and taking it from me. I was kind of fixated on the movement of his lips. Needless to say, an awkward moment ensued when I realized he'd been saying something to me, and I had no idea what it was.

"Do you want to dance?" I asked, quietly. He grinned, leaning down to where his eyes were level with mine.

"Two left feet, Caroline, remember?" He walked around to the other side of the table, grabbing another pool stick and holding it out towards me. "But I'll tell you what. You win, we dance." I took the stick, a look of skepticism on my face. I'd already made up my mind, but it's just plain stupid to take a bet without knowing every possible outcome.

"And if you win?"

"If I win, you show up at the time and place of my choosing," he replied, a crooked grin on his face. My mind was reeling, and I swear my heart stopped beating.

Was he seriously indirectly asking me out? I mean, I did hear that correctly, right? Maybe I need a second opinion.

He leaned up against the pool table, slouching so that he was closer to my level, once again. And he swallowed some beer. And he patiently awaited my answer with that crooked grin there all the while.

Sadly, all I could think was 'What?'

Yes, what.

"What?" I asked, twirling my pool stick around in my hands. He laughed. Apparently he was feeling spontaneous, too.

"Feeling lucky, Palmer?" God, I bet he's used that line on so many people, in and out of the interrogation room. Aside from the Palmer part, of course. But, at that moment, I didn't care, because it was so absolutely, positively, undeniably, one hundred percent, downright _sexy_ that I definitely lost my breath for a minute. Or two.

Or five.

"Okay." I stated, simply. In the end, I think it was the single, solitary word I could get out at that moment. I was still hung up on trying to find words to express whatever the emotion was I was feeling in response to being asked about by Flack. The object of my thoughts stuck his hand out.

"You should probably go ahead and plan on having your schedule clear later in the week," he stated, that grin never leaving his face. I turned around, laughing shakily. But when he wasn't in my direct line of sight, I could think a little more clearly. And, I can honestly say, only that feeling of wanting to do something absolutely crazy in my gut made me come out with my response. I took his hand in mine, warmth flooding through my body with the contact.

"We'll be dancing before you know it, Don Flack."

_X-posted, as always, to livejournal._

_Um, I wanted to make this longer, but as soon as the ending line popped into my head I knew it was ending there. It had to. For real. Flack's finally making a move! ;)_

_**iamagaraeagas:**_ _ A hot Flack is the kind of Flack I'm going for, especially because it's in Liney's POV. ;) Thanks for the review; I'm glad you're liking it. :)_

_**SexyScottishDoc: **__That's insanely awesome. ;) Sometimes I wish I were as random as she is. I might be close…but, I don't have my own Flack, either. ;) Thanks for reviewing, I hope you like this chapter just as much!_

_Again, thanks to anyone who's even bothering to read Caroline's ramblings! :)_

_-Piper_


	8. In The Mirror

**Disclaimer: I don't own CSI: New York. I do own Caroline and Emily Palmer, Haley Oakley, and Boone.**

"Flack." Who knew talking on the phone to someone could be so entirely amazing? I sure didn't.

"Did you catch whoever killed the alley guy?" I asked, a little breathless. I had been walking through Central Park with Boone that afternoon, and I saw Crime Scene tape, and I suddenly realized that I hadn't ever figured out what happened. Like it never crossed my mind again. Granted, my thoughts had been clouded with my phone conversation partner, but I watched a guy _die_ and I hadn't thought about it again?

Jesus, I know I agreed not to worry about whatever was bothering me, but this was getting a little out of hand. And when I realized that I never found out, it was like I couldn't think about anything else, anything at all, until I called someone and found out. And, what can I say; my thoughts always lead me back to Flack.

"Caroline?" He asked, a hint of surprise in his voice. Maybe he was working. Right, personal calls aren't good, I assume. He could be with a suspect or something.

"Sorry," I stated in response. "I should have just waited-"

"Back up, Liney," he replied, and I could hear the smile in his voice. But I was stuck on the fact that he called me Liney. It was the first time. And maybe that's not surprising to you, but typically people don't shorten my name period once they find out I don't like Carol. I guess people find 'Liney' weird. Maybe they're right, since Microsoft Word seems to think it's not a word. "Line?" He asked again. And that had me stuck up again, because no one shortened my name like that, ever.

"Sorry," I mumbled, again, stopping the pacing I had been doing. Boone tugged at her leash when we stopped moving. She was definitely going to pull my arm out of its socket one day. Don Flack laughed in my ear, and I couldn't help but give a little involuntary shiver, despite the fact that I was sweating in the mid-afternoon sun.

"What's this about an alley?" He asked. Of course. It's not like that's the only case he's worked in the last few weeks. He probably had no idea what I was even talking about. I blushed, ducking my head as if everyone milling around the park knew just how stupid I was.

"The man that died in the alleyway that I tried to help," I stated quietly, letting my words trail off.

"We got the guy last week," Flack answered, a perplexity evident in his voice. "I thought Mac told you that." I bent down to pet Boone, trying to think of a time when Mac would have told me that. And then I realized I had been too busy focusing on a drunken Emily to really take in what Mac was saying. And that made me feel like a terrible person, which, yeah, okay, we can probably say I am. Besides that, who doesn't want to listen to anything Mac ever has to say, ever?

"Oh." Lame, Caroline.

"You sure you weren't just calling to cancel on me?" Flack was such a tease, by the way. I hadn't really noticed it until he tried to give me pool tips after I lost our game in a generally pathetic way. But he had leaned over me and put his hand over mine, and suddenly it hadn't mattered whether I sucked at pool or not any more. And then Flack pulled back.

Like I said, a real tease.

"Nah," I smiled, taking off again with Boone. And I was definitely surprised by the words that came out of my mouth. It's that disease, word vomit. "I like you enough to at least give you a shot."

"You already gave me one," he laughed, "and then some."

"Yeah, yeah," I started, "Just you wait for the rematch, Flack. Just you wait." Despite the fact that I used to hang out in pool halls, and despite the fact that I'd done research on the subject, I had still lost painfully to him. He was really good, don't get me wrong, but I should have been able to win, what with my mathematics background and all. Because that's all pool was. Well, that and physics. But I usually did pretty well without the aid of physics. The rest of his Crime Lab buddies, on the other hand, well, I was betting they'd kick your ass without a second thought.

And, in the end, I didn't know whether it was just me wanting to go on a real date with him, or if I just really got that flustered that I couldn't even manage simple questions of angles, or if he really was just that good.

"I'll be by to pick you up in a few hours, then," he rerouted the conversation, bringing it back around the circle. I nodded. Yeah, I told you, I _really_ can't help the body language associated with conversation despite the fact that I'm on the phone. Maybe it is a problem.

"Duty calls?" I asked, lightly, picking Boone up as we neared my car.

"It's New York," he replied, "Duty never stops."

--

"Finally!" Haley's frustrated exclamation greeted me when I returned. She stood in front of me with her hands on her hips, foot tapping. "Caroline Palmer, do you realize you have a date in three hours?"

"Um," my brow furrowed as I surveyed her. Why was she so mad at me? "Yes?"

"What do you mean, yes?" She mimicked the way I said it, exactly. She was good at that. A hidden talent, I guess you'd call it. Sometimes, it was just weird. But I didn't mind volunteering it for a show or a little cash on the side, even if I never got a cent of the change. It was her talent after all, I was just the sidekick. "You didn't cancel did you? He didn't cancel, either, right?" She folded her arms across her chest, looking at me with a sudden light of sympathy.

"Hales," I murmured, finally managing to side-step her into my apartment, so that I could slip my book bag off my shoulders and into one of the stools at the counter. "Yes. I have a date with Flack tonight. No one canceled." She let out a noise of frustration, throwing her hands up in the air.

"Well," she fixed me with a glare, "_why_, exactly, are you all sweaty and sticky then?" I looked down at myself. It really wasn't all that bad. Dang. If she was going to criticize me this much, maybe I _should_ start demanding some of that side money.

"I just went to the park with Boone and did a little work," I replied. It was a nice day. I hadn't realized that it was a crime to be in the park on the day of a date. But, apparently, at least in Haley's world, it was. She ordered me into the shower, and, despite the fact that I was a little irritated with her, I couldn't help but toss out a cheeky response.

"You definitely should have been in the military."

--

I glared at the mirror.

Well, I was glaring at Haley. Her eyes were lit up in satisfaction, however, as she finished tying the straps of the halter topped dress she'd somehow managed to get me into. And then she'd ordered me to spin around. At which point I promptly put my foot down.

I mean, sitting patiently while she doused me with foundation, and blush, and mascara, and eye shadow, and who knows what else, I could handle. Letting her nearly rip my hair out of my scalp as she tried to untangle it might have hurt, but I was okay with it. But shoving me in a dress when I was certain nice jeans and a top would have been fine had me on the end of my rope.

She was _not_ forcing me to spin about for her.

"Haley," I stated, when she looked downtrodden. Obviously, she wasn't too put out, however, as she took to walking around me in a circle instead. She didn't even let me get out what I wanted to say.

"Here," she had shoved shoes in my face. And I knew she was trying to get back on my good side, because she'd picked up my favorite pair, black stilettos with silver lining the straps. And she'd wandered over to my dresser and started to go through my dusty, seldom opened jewelry box. I was glad I hadn't actually _invited_ her over. Then I wouldn't have even been able to complain because I would have been the one who'd asked for it. You'd think I would be used to it, but having been in separate departments at school and having drastically different lives had given me a nice break from the constant waves I'd had during high school.

Just as suddenly as my seashore had gone silent, the waves were back. And I could probably lay the blame, single-handedly, on the shoulders of Don Flack.

"Wear these," she handed me a pair of earrings and a necklace. Like I really needed help deciding what kind of jewelry to wear. Come to think of it, I didn't need help deciding on anything I was wearing.

At least she'd let me keep my hair down. She'd only managed to pull it out of my face, a select section on the top pulled back into a jeweled clip that had literally come out of nowhere. It hadn't taken me long to realize that New York had made Haley a fashion machine. I was _not_ looking forward to any weddings involving the both of us.

"Damn, Liney," Haley grinned at me. "You could totally pick up Mac Taylor if you dressed like _this_ more often." I rolled my eyes at her, but couldn't help the blush that spread across my now accented cheekbones. Haley laughed. As if I didn't feel ridiculous enough as it was.

"Haley," I whined, pleading a wardrobe change through the sound of her name. She shook her head, the grin still stuck on her face.

"No way, Caroline." She turned me around to make me look at myself in the mirror again. "You're hot." I shook my head, glaring again as I met her mirth filled eyes.

"Look, you at least have to be out of here before Flack shows up," I stated, firmly.

"Why's that?" She asked. I wanted to say 'because I didn't even invite you over in the first place,' but she didn't even give me the chance. "So you can change and undo all of my handy work? I don't think so, Palmer."

"Screw you, Oakley," I stated, vehemently, plopping myself down on the couch in the living room. Boone was about to jump up next to me when Haley had started running towards me. I was scared for my life, but it turns out she was just after Boone.

"You're wearing all black," she stated, "No puppy for you." We sat in silence, her playing with _my_ dog, while I fumed, my arms crossed, and my legs, too. Which was just one of the many reasons why I did not want to be wearing a dress tonight. You can't prop your feet up when you're in a dress.

"Haley," I had an idea. A way that I might be able to make her let me change. "What if we're not going somewhere nice? What if he's in jeans?"

"He's not that cheap," Haley replied, lifting her eyebrow at me, with a look of obvious disgust on her face at the idea. "And if he is, you shouldn't date him, anyway."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," I replied, sulking again. There went that idea. Now there was no way out of this. No way at all. And, to top it all off, Haley managed to beat me to the door, Boone not far behind her, when my doorbell rang. All I could do was stand hopelessly, awkwardly, in the middle of my own apartment, while I waited for the inevitable. I just knew I was going to have to change. But Haley shot me a grin, and Flack rounded the corner in a suit.

I should have known. He had been working. And he was usually always on call from what I'd gathered. Something about the way to being the best of the best or something. Always be available.

But, okay, yeah, I'll admit it; it was nicer than the other suits I'd seen him in. He was absolutely breathtakingly gorgeous in it, too. I swear I stopped breathing. His lack of matching skills wasn't even apparent, as he wore a deep burgundy tie with a plain white shirt, and every inch of that man was apparent perfection, right down to the shiny, squeaky clean, black shoes.

Truth of the matter was, Don Flack cleaned up good.

"Have a good night, you two," Haley grinned in triumph, taking Boone with her as she exited my apartment. I probably should have realized, then and there, that she obviously thought we were planning on having sex. I really don't know what I did to deserve that, either.

Well, this was incredibly awkward. But Flack was smiling, so I gave him a hesitant smile back.

"Ready to go?" He asked. I held up a finger, indicating I needed just one second. And I hurried back into my room, giving myself a once over in the mirror. I grimaced at the extent to which Haley had gone to 'fix me up.' I wasn't even sure that Caroline Palmer was under all that anymore. Needless to say, my night was an evening summed up as an out of body experience. I grabbed the clutch of my bed that Haley had left out for me, and headed back to find Flack glaring down at his phone.

"Everything okay?" I asked. He looked up at me, fixing me with a stare, with that emotion that I couldn't read half the time. Something I couldn't figure out. But it didn't matter whether I could or I couldn't, because the fact that he was staring at me gave me the right to stare at him. And I _loved_ looking at his eyes. Hell, I loved looking at his everything.

The implications of such a thought caused me to blush, and break eye contact. His lips twisted upward in a grin.

"Golden," he answered. "Have I mentioned that you look amazing?" I bit my lower lip, shaking my head lightly. He chuckled, which brought my eyes right back to him. "Now are you good?"

"Yeah," I stated, slipping my hand into his outstretch one. "Yeah." But while I locked the door, something in me realized just how uncomfortable I really was, and I turned around to face him with unease. Especially when I realized just how close we were standing. God, he knew how to turn a girl on. "Actually, I'm a..." I couldn't even tell him.

"If it helps," Flack murmured, "I've recently become _very_ aware of the fact that I never should have given my number to that friend of yours." And suddenly everything had made sense. Haley did all of this. Of course. I laughed. That was just like her. She always wanted things to be perfect.

"You'll probably regret that the rest of your life." I looked up at the elevator numbers, managing to repress my shudder when they opened and Flack's hand found its way to the small of my back.

"I was hoping you'd say it gets better," he murmured, disappointedly, directly into my ear. I was completely unaware of exactly what we were talking about anymore. Euphemisms were never my strong suit. Actually, as Haley has so sweetly pointed out on numerous occasions, I'm not so good at anything that falls under the category of 'English.'

"Can I request something?" I asked, as he slipped into the driver's seat next to me, revving the engine. He gave me a nod, looking over his shoulder to back up. "Well, it's just, usually I'm on a first name basis with people I'm dating." My words trailed off again. That happened a lot. Flack's eyes caught mine when he turned around again, looking back at in front of him as he pulled out into the ongoing, never-ending traffic.

"Well, then, just call me Don," he stated with a smile.

_X-posted to livejournal. _

_Hm. I don't know how I feel about this one…aside from the fact that it was a little more than I wanted. But the phone conversation and Haley going crazy were things that I couldn't get out of my head, so, here we go. Next chapter should be the date. Cue the ominous music._

_**SexyScottishDoc: **__I'm glad you like it! :) That is pretty crazy, and yet insanely awesome at the same time. And, y'know, a hot Flack is the best Flack. ;) Thanks for reviewing again! :D_

_Thanks to everyone who's reading, I hope you're enjoying it, too. And if you feel so inclined, I do love feedback of any sort (well, excepting flames, of course). ;) Thanks!_

_-Piper_


	9. High School

**Disclaimer: I don't own CSI: New York. I do own Caroline and Daddy Palmer, and Haley Oakley.**

"This looks," I paused, trying to find a proper word for what the restaurant looked like, "like somewhere my dad would take a potential business partner."

"Okay," Don murmured, I could feel the breeze from the doorway closing behind us. "Good thing or bad thing?" I smiled. He _was_ still making my heart beat uncontrollably to the point where I was fearing it jumping out of my ribcage suddenly, but I couldn't help but think it was absolutely adorable that he was trying to make sure I was enjoying myself.

During what should have been a fifteen minute drive from my apartment to the upscale restaurant we were now standing in that actually turned into nearly a half hour, we had started to talk about his family, because he already knew all about mine. I already knew he had two brothers and sister, but I didn't really _know_ anything about them. So, I pressed. Which was difficult, by the way, because every time I'd actually look at him I found myself having difficulty breathing and suddenly had no idea what I was trying to say. Secretly I think he enjoyed that in particular, because half the time my thoughts went haywire they had been focused on the subtle tell tale signs of a smirk playing across his gorgeous lips. And let's admit, those would have been distracting enough.

In retrospect, maybe I shouldn't have pressed, maybe I should have let him lead the conversation. Lord knows I probably wouldn't have prolonged the conversation as much as I did if he'd lead. But, I mean, I talk when I'm nervous. More than that, I ramble. Hell, I ramble when I'm _not_ nervous, and, if I _am_ nervous, once I've gotten going, there's no stopping me. Haley always said I had a tendency to trip over myself. I still just want to know why she never steps in when it's happening. Some friend, right?

Anyway, when we broached his sister it was apparent that it was a touchy subject. Yeah, like the rest of it wasn't a touchy subject either. That's one point for living in the South, by the way, knowing your family and being friends with them. But since Don was trying to make me comfortable he cracked a joke about some alcoholic he'd arrested a couple weeks ago. And all the tension that had built up, and, trust me, there was a lot, was suddenly gone.

"A good thing, definitely," I replied. "Because, apparently, relationships are business partnerships."

"Your dad teach you that?" His brow knit and I grinned. But before I could respond, we were being led to a table. The lights were dim, there was a bar to my left, and a live band playing soft music to my right, along with a small, impromptu dance floor, where one or two couples could fit if they really, and I mean _really_, liked each other.

And then I had to go and cross my legs. Because that's what you do when you're wearing a dress. But the table was a lot smaller than I'd originally taken note of, and my leg brushed the length of his. I blushed pretty miserably, burying my face in my menu. I swear Haley did all of this on purpose. Somehow she just _knew_ this was going to happen.

"What else did your dad teach you about relationships?" He asked. He was grinning.

"Is that a pick up line?" I quirked back. He looked away, and I could just barely make out red rising across his face in the dim light, though his smile made it difficult for me to concentrate on anything else.

But, whoa? Did _I_ make that happen? Seriously?

Because if I did, I gotta say, I'm fairly certain that that's a first. But just because it was the first time it happened didn't mean I didn't get a little thrill out of it. My heart was leaping at the sight. And suffice to say, yes, I was incredibly surprised I wasn't dead yet with such a rapid heartbeat. Not to mention the angry hoard of butterflies in my stomach. Which kind of sounds oxymoronic.

"It's not the worst you could do," I dipped my head again, my eyes scanning the menu but not taking in the words. "If it was one, of course."

"Personal experience?"

"No," I titled my head, staring at the symbols for the specialty meals and the chef's favorites. I think I have a mild case of ADD. Or, maybe a large one. "Second hand experience. My own experience is rather limited to geeky lines, actually."

"Hit me with it," he stated. I looked up, forcing myself to take a breath.

"I wish I were a derivative so I could lie tangent to your curves." Just saying it intensified the heat on my face. I probably looked sunburned by now. And I wasn't sure whether black made that look better or worse. I don't normally sit in the sun if I don't have to. Mainly because I'm whiter than white, and sunburn really does hurt.

"Some of us only have high school diplomas, Line," he drew me from my thoughts. Understandable, because who should really be thinking about something as trivial as sunburn when they're sitting across from quite possibly the sexiest man on the planet? On a date, nonetheless.

"I had Calculus in high school," I shrugged, snapping my menu closed and resting my elbows on the table. He mimicked me, and I suddenly found myself very close to a pair of gorgeous blue eyes.

"I was more of a sports and friends kind of guy," his eyes were glinting back a mirth that I was quickly finding myself lost in. I glanced down for a moment.

"And you're saying I wasn't?" I lifted my brow, daring him to say I was geeky and had no friends. Not that it wasn't true. Well, at least partially. I _was_ a geek, it was true, and, yeah, I like it when people talk nerdy to me, but I _did_ have friends.

"I hope not," he replied. I wasn't entirely sure what he was referring to, but he'd suddenly leaned back and I followed his line of sight to a waiter standing over us. And then my stomach growled. Ferociously. Like there was some sort of rabid animal inside it. Well, there was. But it wasn't particularly threatening, just a bunch of _butterflies_. Don was trying to hide his laugh as the waiter gave me a look of slight revulsion.

That moment was the one where I realized that neither of us really fit into this scene. Which explained why halfway through dinner we were suddenly talking about the other people in the oversized room, reading their body language and guessing their life stories. And his might have been closer to the truth, because, after all, he is a detective, but I think mine were a lot more entertaining. And I very nearly choked on the veal I was eating when he casually tossed out a little more information than I'd been going for.

"They're definitely having sex tonight." He paused in his eating, as I coughed. "Are you okay, Caroline?"

"Fine," I managed to cough out, grasping for my wine glass.

"I didn't know you'd react that way," he stated, as if he were taking notes on me, learning what it was that made me act the way I did. Okay, so, yeah, basically that's what dates are for. That, and making out. But, really, how else was I supposed to react to that? I mean, it's not every day that I'm _talking about sex_ with _Don Flack_ of all people.

I could probably only be worse if it were Mac. Because that would be downright awkward. You couldn't even throw that off with flirting, like I was hoping to do. I mean. Really.

Yeah.

"I'm sorry," I stabbed at a piece of meat, my fingers still cupping my wine glass. "Did you say they were going to have _sex_?" I glanced back at the couple he was talking about. They were arguing. What the hell, Donnie?

Whoa, where did that come from? I mean, I had been enjoying letting 'Don' roll off my tongue, but 'Donnie' hadn't even crossed my mind. Until now, obviously. Something is definitely wrong with my brain. _Donnie_?

He nodded, and I was confused for a moment as to whether it was to my internal question or the one I'd asked. Yeah, see. Let me reiterate. Something wrong with my brain. Aside from loving mathematics.

"They're _arguing_, Don," I murmured. "She's _not_ having sex with him."

"Make-up sex, Caroline," he stated, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Make-up sex. Well.

Everyone did say it was the best kind.

--

Later that night I found myself leaning against the back of Don's car, my ankles crossed and my arms hugging my torso. Which was only partially because it was slightly cold out. Mainly it was just because I was wrapped in dark blue coat that read NYPD on the back. And it was _heavenly_.

Not only in the fact that it smelt like him, but also because no one was asking me questions. It was like I belonged here, right in front of the yellow police tape. When I thought I was alone, well, as alone as you can be on a New York sidewalk, I lifted the too-long-for-my-arm-sleeve to my face, breathing it in.

And that was that. I'd decided that no matter whether Don and I kept dating or if it ended soon, I was definitely stealing some clothing. Although, I can probably safely say it won't be a tie, because his ties really don't go with anything. Maybe it was a police officer thing.

"New look, Caroline?" I dropped my hand quickly, turning around to find Danny Messer with a hunk of silver casing in his hand. I laughed.

"You better have a good reason for making Don come up here," I stated. "We were in the middle of an extremely nice evening."

"My apologies," he laughed, moving past me and ducking under the crime scene tape. "And just so you know, I kind of like the look." I blushed, pulling myself off the car and turning away from him. So he might have been married, and I did like the Wife, but I couldn't deny that he was attractive. And rather suave.

Those Italians can get you every time.

Clearly I didn't know how long these things took when I insisted on not letting him drop me off at home first. And I did have new found ability to not being questioned at all, what with a New York Police Department jacket on and all. And maybe it was wrong of me to duck under the tape and find out exactly what was going on with the dead person down the corner of the sidewalk, but I could only pace back and forth for so long.

Yeah, obviously these things take longer than I thought. Don was questioning a guy who looked like he'd been out partying, and when I say out partying, I mean, it was wasn't obvious he was having difficulty holding his liquor, until he threw up, but he was covered in some sort of gunk and his clothes were rather askew. Talking to him was probably worse than waiting by the car, actually.

The body that Danny was hovering over seemed to me like it was almost a replica of the alleyway I'd been in a few weeks before. A bullet hole through the chest. The only difference was he had a lot more bruising. But on the plus side, I wasn't covered in his blood.

But I still tried to avoid looking at him. I mean, it's not a pleasant sight, you know? And the smell's not on my top ten list. And, no, that's not just because Don and Mac were pretty much filling up all of those blanks.

Instead, I decided to put my almost-a-PhD-in-mathematics-training to use. Because, really, I was sort of deprived of math lately. I mean, I love my Calc class, but I was actually starting to miss my research days.

And I _never_ thought I'd say that.

I wandered along the path I thought the bullet would probably take, judging by the location of the hole in the man's chest, careful to avoid Danny and anything that I could possibly contaminate. Finding out the angle it rebounded off the metal sign was probably the best part. And I know I'm a serious dork for knowing trigonometry off the top of my head, but the more frightening part was probably knowing that I could manage minimal physics.

Because, sure enough, after a couple minutes, I saw a small piece of metal glinting. Bingo. Hey, this field work stuff was actually fairly worthwhile. I fished in Don's coat pocket and found a pair of latex gloves, kind of surprising, but, hey, I'm not judging, and picked it up carefully before heading back to Danny.

"I found your bullet," I stated, holding it out to him. He looked at me with a slightly bewildered expression. Which I didn't really understand because I'm sure this was very nearly an everyday experience for him, right? Be handed a bullet? I mean, I'm nearly a hundred percent certain they deal with guns on a near daily basis.

"Where?" I pointed out the spot to him and he took the glove and bullet from me, moving in the direction I pointed.

"Caroline, you're not allowed in the crime scene," Don's hand had found my hip before I even realized he was talking to me.

Yeah, I probably should have realized that before.

--

A talking to and a long, but comfortable, drive home later, I was standing in front of my apartment door with Don behind me. It would've been worse if I'd sulked like I normally would have after being lectured, but I was too enamored with him for that.

I was _enamored_ with him.

God, I was definitely in way over my head.

I turned abruptly, once again finding myself face to face with Don's torso. I looked up to find him looking down, with that emotion I couldn't read. I was beginning to wonder if I ever would. I blushed, spinning back around and opening my front door. I slipped his coat off, feeling suddenly heavier without the extra weight.

The night might not have been what I was expecting, but I did enjoy it and I didn't want it to end.

"What did you mean when you said you hoped I wasn't the sports and friends kind of high schooler?" I asked, looking for any excuse to prolong the night. It was useless, I knew, he had to work early in the morning, and we'd already discussed that there wouldn't be any...extended fraternization tonight. Besides that, I needed to give my heart and lungs a rest.

"I didn't say that," he laughed, leaning down to kiss me on the cheek. "I said I hoped you were the sports and friends kind of _guy_."

That night was the first time I'd ever been truly upset that I didn't invite a boy into my apartment.

_X-posted to livejournal._

_Ugh. Okay. I know it got a little off, and that's probably because I haven't been taking the time to work on it…but I needed to get this out. You can blame Miami for that, because that's all I watched this weekend, and I missed the reruns today (for the most part. I still just love the way Carmine says 'golf.') But, anyway._

_**IluvmyTV-ugottaproblem:**__ Thanks so much! :) I'm glad you like it and I'm sorry I take so long to update!_

_**SexyScottishDoc:**__ I'm glad you're enjoying Caroline's quirks and habits. I think anyone would be nervous around Flack. And Eddie, for that matter. ;) Thanks for reviewing again! They make my day. :)_

_So…was it absolutely terrible?_

_-Piper_


	10. Unfortunate

**Disclaimer: I don't own CSI: New York. I do own Caroline Palmer, Haley Oakley, Kelly Tomlinson, and Boone.**

I woke up approximately twelve hours later to the sounds of someone entering my apartment.

My body was awfully, excessively tired. And no, I don't know how it got that way. I probably should have realized then and there that today was not going to be a good day. I could just barely make out the sound of Boone's paws on the hardwood, meaning Haley was the aforementioned someone in my apartment, when the phone rang. But instead of answering the phone, I found myself making a mad dash to the bathroom.

Where I proceeded to empty my stomach's contents.

And, I'll tell you, that was strange. Because I haven't thrown up in at least fifteen years. Seriously. Leaning back against the edge of my bathtub, I realized my head felt incredibly heavy, too. Which just sucked. Because I was familiar with that feeling, and I knew what it meant.

I was _definitely_ sick.

Well, damn. I heaved again.

"Morning sickness already?" I managed a small grown in response to Haley's question. She'd leaned herself up against the doorway, arms crossed. There was so much to say that I never would have managed to get out anyway, even if I hadn't been depositing the last remnants of my dinner in white, shiny porcelain.

I mean, first of all, I _did not_ have sex last night. She should have been able to figure that out herself. Aside from _knowing_ me and all, it's obvious that when I wake up here and no one else is here that I didn't have sex. Or at least I thought it was. Maybe it wasn't, because, again, _it's never happened to me._ But that's straying from the point. Because second of all, morning sickness would most definitely not start the morning after you had sex. Just, you know, it wouldn't. Which just left me trying to remember whether Haley had actually passed high school bio or not.

I was inclined to believe it was the latter just at the moment.

"What did you eat last night?"

And with that I suddenly realized that Haley was incredibly close to me. I shook my head at her, falling back again.

"You know, I'm not particularly fond of one-sided conversations," Haley let her sentence trail off. Total lie, by the way. If you just let Haley talk all day, she'd be fine. Happy, even. "I think, since you never throw up like this, that you've got food poisoning." Well, that's _fun_.

"Doctor?" I managed to ask, a sarcastic tone to my suddenly and uncharacteristically soft spoken voice.

"Yeah. I'm totally training on the weekends with my nonexistent fortune," she paused, looking at me. "No, no, I'm okay with it; don't offer up any of your crazy amounts of cash." I rolled my eyes at her, running a hand through my wild hair.

I'd seriously done a number to it last night. And it had nothing to do with the Don infested dream I had. I mean that.

"Can you at least tell me what you did last night?" She asked, following me back to my bed. When I sat down on the edge of it and took her in she was giving me the puppy dog eyes.

"Dinner," I mumbled, pulling the covers around me, and squeezing my eyes shut to block out the sudden increase in light that was coming through my window. I kind of felt like I had a strange mix of a hangover and food poisoning and the usual, everyday cold all jumbled up into one big, sucky sickness.

Which is just unfortunate, you know.

"Hence the food poisoning," she murmured, before prodding further. "And?"

"Crime scene." I really just wished she'd leave me alone. I wanted to go back to sleep. I was drifting away already, and there had only been a thirty second lull in the conversation.

"Wow," Haley stated, suddenly. "That's like...so much more exciting than any dates I ever go on." I would have told her that he sort of yelled at me at said crime scene, although, yeah, it was stupid of me to cross the tape and even stupider to pick something up. But I wasn't entirely sure that I wasn't dreaming, and, besides that, she was excited about it. There was no reason to rain on her parade, right?

"Well," she dragged out the word, trying to gather my attention, I supposed. "Jesus, you really are sick."

Thank you. I don't know what I would have done without your assessment of my situation.

Her hand had found its way to my forehead, where she promptly complained about it being incredibly hot.

"Right," she murmured, just as I felt Boone slide up beside me on the bed, giving me lick where Haley's hand had been moments before, as it was basically the only part of me that buried beneath my sheets. "I'm going to get you some meds. And call Flack back and-"

"Don't," I whined. I pulled the covers down as my eyes opened to give her a look. And I for one thought it was plenty reasonable to not want my hot date from the night before to see me throwing my guts up.

Haley not so much, I guess.

"I have to call him back, Liney," she squatted down beside the bed to where she was level with me. "Because apparently he's been calling you all morning and you haven't been answering. Which I don't understand, because your phone is the most annoying thing on the face of the planet."

I turned away from her, burying my face back into the bed, to where I was safely stuck between my sheets, my pillows, and my dog. And, I mean, what else do you really need?

Except, you know, a hot boy.

"Hey, I'll tell him you're contagious."

I should have been a lot more adamant about the not calling Don thing, but I was lost to the world as soon as Haley'd started saying something about my phone being annoying. And if there was one thing that was good about being sick, it was that you didn't have to wait for sleep to overcome you.

--

Well, at least my body had decided to move like clockwork, as I had to make a dash every two hours or so. Or, at least, I thought that was roughly what was going on. I don't know for sure. Being sick leaves me completely out of it.

But I do know that when my head finally stopped feeling like dead weight, and I found myself aware of my surroundings, it was almost six o'clock on Sunday night.

_Holy crap_.

I sure do know how to sleep.

I didn't have much time to glare at the clock, though, because I was becoming increasingly aware of the presence beside me. And I didn't mean Boone, who had nested snugly between me and...well, I didn't know who. Or what.

Opening my eyes to find Don's lanky form sprawled out beside me with paperwork in his lap had me scrambling to get back under the covers. Because if there was one thing I could be certain about, it was that I looked _awful_.

"Hey, sunshine."

Jesus, have I mentioned how devastatingly sexy his voice sounds?

"Don't look at me," I groaned, finally hiding myself completely. Which had only become a possibility when Boone had suddenly stood up, realizing that I was awake. Her snout was nudging me, and I could hear Don's laugh as I felt his hand brushing her snout away.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but I already have." He wasn't looking at me, though, when I let my face breathe in the fresh air again. Instead he was keeping Boone entertained, moving his hand about because her snout was sure to follow. Apparently she liked the taste of his hands.

And, well, I couldn't really blame her for that, could I?

Me and my inappropriate thoughts left me blushing furiously and striving to hide, once again.

"Look, I'll head out if you want," he sounded downtrodden, his sentence hanging in the air, the proverbial elephant in the room. I shook my head, finally propping myself up into a sitting position to match his. But at the attempt to rake my fingers through my hair, I found myself thinking that maybe things would have been better if I just went back to sleep. Sleep the whole week away. That'd be nice, right?

"How long have you been here?" I asked, cautiously. I didn't really know what to say to him. 'Cause I mean, you know, I definitely had not been expecting to wake up next to him.

Not until we'd gotten into a _serious_ relationship, at least.

"Couple hours," he replied, with a lopsided grin that made my heart skip a beat. He gathered his paperwork together and set it down on the night stand next to the bed, before turning to face me, his other hand now running up and down Boone's gangly form.

"You didn't have to," I murmured, my blush deepening as I looked down at my hands.

"It's the least I can do, considering the restaurant I took you to is what got you sick in the first place."

"No, my Southern habits are what got me sick in the first place," I grimaced, feeling my stomach rumbling. I have to say, I'm not really in the mood for food anytime soon.

"Hows about I make you something, then?"

I don't think a New York accent could be any more alluring than it was in that moment. It was taking a lot of will power _not_ to move any closer to him, to touch him, to kiss him.

God, that would be absolutely amazing.

I realized he was looking at me, his curiosity written clearly in his gorgeous eyes. Sometimes it was like my brain just went missing, and it was only getting worse the more time I spent with Don Flack. But, well, I'd be lying if I said I didn't like it.

Well, my organs probably didn't like it. Having to work twice as hard just to keep me breathing. Yeah.

Right, he's still looking at me.

"Can I take a shower first?"

"Hey, it's your house," he shook his head, laughing. Could I be any more stupid?

I groaned into my hands.

As if I couldn't make myself any less attractive. I was beginning to wonder what in the world it was that was keeping him here. What did I have that could even hold his attention for more than half a minute? I mean, I was just me, and there wasn't anything particularly special about me.

Except my math skills. I won't lie. But I don't think Don really cared about that. And my dad was rich. But, I mean, if he was really looking for that, he would have let me pay for my dinner the night before.

Or two nights before.

Which meant I had to teach tomorrow. This whole getting sick over the weekend thing was turning out to be total crap.

"So, what do you want?"

Or maybe it was pretty fantastic, all things considered.

"Surprise me," I smiled lightly, standing up and stretching myself out. Yeah, my limbs were definitely worn out. It felt weird to move. Which was weird.

"Can do," he stated with a slight lift of his brow.

And that was enough to send a tingle through the length of my body.

From the tips of my fingers to the ends of my toes, I was completely in love with Don Flack, Jr.

And I wasn't sure what to do about it.

--

I was running my fingers through my limp, damp hair, feeling refreshed and much, much better after having hot beads of water pouring down my back. And when I'd gotten out, I'd suddenly realized that it was hot as freaking blazes in my apartment. So, I was headed toward the thermostat.

But I stopped short when I spotted Don in my kitchen. I had spent a long, _long_ time in the shower, so the food was already done. I couldn't really help that fact, though, I mean, it just felt so amazing. Every time I was ready to leave, it suddenly got that much better. I'd only managed to drag myself out by turning the water to freezing cold, because that made me lose my breath, and I had to get out.

But with the current heat wave I was experiencing, the freezing shower was looking good right now.

Actually, what was looking good right now was the man at my kitchen island counter top.

I hadn't paid much attention to what he'd looked like when we were in my bed. I was too startled by the fact that he was _in my bed._ Which I think is perfectly reasonable. But the fact that he was completely engrossed in his files, the ones he'd had in my room, I assumed, and utterly oblivious to my presence gave me plenty of time to study him.

Realizing that I was in love with him hadn't helped my heart any, it was still beating wildly just looking at him. And the butterflies seemed to get angry every time he twitched; I was on edge waiting for him to notice me. There were thousands of things I could do in just one second that would make him realize that I wasn't worth it.

But just at that moment, things felt right.

Boone was lying beside his seat, her eyes closed. I was just betting that she was particularly thrilled at having a new person to spend her time with. Especially when he, apparently, tasted so good.

I wouldn't know that, though. Instead, I just let my eyes roam over his body, taking in every detail. I'd thought that no one in the city of New York would ever be able to pull of blue jeans quite like Danny Messer had, but Don was right up there with him. And form fitting t-shirts was something I was about to complain about.

He was _muscular_.

And just looking at him was leaving my face bright red. So, turning down the temperature would probably be a good thing right now. The soft padding of my bare feet alerted Boone to the fact that I was in the room, which caused Don to look at me.

"Feeling better, Line?" He set down his pen on top of the papers. I couldn't help but noticed that his gun and badge were beside them. Not that that meant anything.

Or maybe it did, or something. I mean, that showed that he trusted me.

Right?

"Yeah," I bit my lip. "And whatever you cooked smells fantastic." I actually did mentally debate throwing in something about it never being able to smell better than him, though. Which I imagine would have been fairly embarrassing. It was bad enough telling Mac that he smelt good, I probably should go around broadcasting to the whole world whether they smelt good or not.

Anyway.

"As long as you like Italian," he responded.

"I didn't know you were a cook," I teased, opening the fridge to grab a pair of beers. Heaven knows I could use a little alcohol in my system.

"It comes with the Italian territory," he grinned, taking both bottles from me and easily popping both tops off. "But if you want something amazing, you should get Danny to cook for you."

"Being mostly Irish spoils your Italian cooking skills?" I questioned, loading up pasta onto my plate. Suddenly food was looking like a better and better idea. Which my stomach agreed with, as it gave another deep rumbling.

"Something like that," Don laughed, reaching around me to pick up the beer he'd set down a moment before. And just that little brush of his arm on my shoulders stopped my breathing for a minute.

Apparently, I'd missed out on a lot while I was in sickened dreamland state. Because I'd missed some more phone calls and text messages. And I'll admit I was afraid to look at my e-mail, because there was no telling how many people were trying to contact me because of school. Especially on a weekend. Things hadn't changed since I'd finished actual schooling; the best time to do your homework was Sunday evening.

Haley had dropped by a couple times. And, so I'm told, one of my neighbors dropped by to check up on me at one point. When Don was there. I mean, normal people are on edge enough when someone's entering their apartment uninvited and unexpected, but a Detective...well, let's just say I wouldn't like to be on the other side of the door.

Kelly Tomlinson would probably never enter my apartment again, and she'd certainly be knocking from now on.

Not that anyone got hurt or anything.

Although, I was still out on why I had absolutely no recollection of the ordeal, because Don said I'd wandered out as he was explaining why a New York Detective was in my apartment to my eighteen year old neighbor, who had probably been scared to death when she was face to face with said Detective and his _gun_.

"You're quite the popular person," he stated, as we were cleaning up the mess of plates and silverware and pots and such that we'd used. I was beginning to get that end of the weekend feeling, that dread at the fact that tomorrow was a Monday and it was back to work. Not that I had a particularly strenuous job or anything. But given the choice between work and spending time with Don, I'd definitely be choosing the latter.

"Just wait 'til I've taught about ten years or so," I stated, scrubbing at the sauce left on the edges of the pot in my soap covered hands. "I'll know everyone in this city."

"Oh, yeah?" He questioned from inside the fridge, where he was making room for the ridiculous amount of food he'd made. "I find that hard to believe, Caroline."

"You've never been friends with a teacher, Donnie," I laughed. "Seriously. They know _everyone_."

"So, you can help us out when we can't locate our suspects, huh?"

"Why would I want to go and do that?" I asked. He was suddenly standing behind me, and, yes, his scent was incredibly overpowering.

"It'd make life a whole lot easier," he stated, his breath tickling my ear.

"But I wouldn't want to be putting you out of job," I replied, before turning around. "Would I?" We were incredibly close. Like, making-out close. As in, his nose was touching mine close.

Which was making my brain and heart go haywire. It's not like I could even put it off as accidental, because he had to be doing it on purpose considering he was so _insanely_ tall.

"I don't think that'll happen anytime soon," he murmured. And then his lips were on mine, and I was responding with ferocity, and I don't think I'd ever experienced _anything_ more absolutely mind blowing than that kiss. He'd easily lifted me up onto the counter, to make it easier to kiss me I guess, what with the height difference and all. Not that I was really worried about _how_ this was happening. I was more stuck in the fact that this _was_ happening.

And the fact that it was _amazing_.

And then his phone rang. He had been right.

Duty never stops in New York City.

_X-posted to livejournal, as always._

_Well, um. I think the end makes up for it. :) And my apologies for taking so long, I had finals…and Jonathan Togo's invading my mind space…ahem._

_**browner864:**__ Hm, yeah, if they hadn't had a Lindsay, this probably never would have happened, and I'd be in the middle of a Danny story…Carmine's really fantastic. ;) I'm glad you like it, though. Especially characterization, because I'm always having trouble trying to stick words in their mouths (Mac probably more so than anyone else, but, you know, it's Gary Sinise!). Thanks for reviewing! :)_

_**kaypgirl: **__Ha, yeah, Caroline doesn't know much about the CSI business. ;) I hope you didn't mind me taking 'dinner and a crime scene' for the beginning of the chapter, it's such a great line! And thanks so much for reviewing, it means a lot! :)_

_**iamgaearagas: **__Well, that's good, because he's supposed to sound hot! ;) I'm glad you like it, and thanks for leaving a review! I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint._

_Well, whaddya think? Anything you'd like to see, specifically, from Donnie and Liney?_

_-Piper_


	11. Stoplights

**Disclaimer: I don't own CSI: New York or The Lost Trailers. I do own Caroline Palmer, Haley Oakley, Carrie Lawrence, and Boone.**

Boone had been right. Don _did_ taste good. And during the next month, he became, without a doubt, my favorite taste in the world. I mean, I like a large variety of foods a whole heck of a lot, and drinks, well, you know me and whiskey, but I think it's safe to say that he easily out did them all. What could I say?

That insanely amazing kiss in my kitchen had somehow unleashed a fury, though, apparently. Because it seemed like every time we were near one another we were making out. And, I won't lie, I totally felt like I was in high school again. Because there wasn't a single place in the entire city that wasn't a suitable make out spot. Or, at least it felt that way. I'm sure that's not actually true, because, I mean, I wouldn't want to be making out in a lot of the places I'd seen around here.

Then again, I _was_ making out with a cop.

As a side note, the more I did it the more I was finding myself wondering who in the world came up with the phrase 'making out.' It really didn't make much sense to me. But I guess that's why I'm a math major, and not English like Haley. Not that she helped me out much when I asked. Not that she ever did.

Remind me why I'm friends with her again?

But anyway, I've become very aware of just how demanding being a Detective is. And not just because his phone's ruined its fair share of make out sessions. Mainly it was because we'd only made it through our second date just last week. Which was pretty sad, considering it had been a month after our first date.

Because sucking face really didn't count as an actual date. Something I was very, very acutely aware of. And yes, I do enjoy using words like 'acutely' in everyday speech. Call it my mathematical mind at work.

And the only having been on two dates thing suited me fine. No lie.

Like I said, though, we'd unleashed the beast, and it had gotten to the point where I was seriously salivating at the thought of being able to kiss him. And I know that sounds gross, and probably relatively disturbing, but it's the truth. I'll remember _not_ to tell anyone that. But, honestly, it's not like I could change the fact that he was mouth watering.

I think my hormones are wildly out of control.

Which would be why I've found myself in this position more than once over the past month. Sitting on his desk while he was in the middle of what I assumed was a work related conversation. At least I had a nice seat for said conversation. I mean, I could clearly see every aspect the man had to offer.

And he was looking absolutely gorgeous, as always.

He was doing a fairly good job of illustrating my point, however, when he didn't speak to me, instead tilting his head in an incredibly irresistible way toward a more secluded hallway. Which was a particularly good spot, I have to say, because with me pushed up in the corner, it was fairly difficult to actually _see_ me.

I've mentioned his tendency to be much taller than me, right?

I wasn't disappointed. Words tended to fail me when I was kissed like that. It was like my brain couldn't even form complete sentences. Like the neurons weren't firing or something. I don't even know if that's right, my knowledge of the human anatomy is a little less than the best. Which I don't think is necessarily a bad thing.

Lots of things that I would probably be okay with not knowing.

"Hi." I was pretty sure I was sounding more than a little breathless. And I felt more than heard his response, being so close together in the corner. That, and the fact that he was kissing me again.

I was beginning to understand why we were lacking in our conversational skills.

--

Twenty minutes after my uh, fraternization with Don, I found myself staring through the open, exposed walls of the crime lab. I don't know whose idea it was to put a crime lab on the thirty fifth floor, but I'm still rather perturbed with them. I mean, thirty five? Really?

It's like a seven minute ride in the elevator!

But, I'll admit, having glass for walls wasn't such a bad thing when you were looking for someone. And I knew exactly who I was looking for. Because he had interrupted the aforementioned fraternization.

And, yeah, I was kind of already in trouble with Mac for having picked up that bullet at that crime scene. We had a long talk about that. Well, it was more like a lecture, as I spent the entire time being berated and really having nothing to say in defense of myself. Yeah, I was stupid. Forgive me for not being trained in the arts of crime scene investigation and forensic science.

In retrospect, that snarky statement was probably the reason the conversation lasted as long as it did. I really should just stop talking around other people. Period.

I mean, that seemed to be working out pretty well with Don.

Which brought me back to the reason I was here. And it was just perfect timing, too, because just at the moment I realized I was probably in the way of the elevator doors, Danny Messer was walking past me with a folder in his hand.

"Caroline," his brow lifted in a certain amount of surprise, though it was rapidly changing to that of a smirk. I rolled my eyes. _Boys_.

"Could you _not_ tell anyone else about," I paused, making motions in the air with my hands. I don't know what I hoped to accomplish by doing that, honestly. "You know."

"What are we not telling anyone about?" I turned to see Lindsay, looking a little breathless. But her eyes were alight, and I could only assume that meant something awesome was happening.

Although, I think their definitions of awesome didn't quite match up with mine. As it turns out, Lindsay was excited that she'd gotten conclusive evidence about who a murderer was.

And I don't know how finding a murderer qualifies as awesome. But, whatever.

"Palmer and Flack having a little rendezvous down at the station," Danny stated, flipping through the folder that Lindsay had handed him. Which sort of rendered my annoyed, pointed gaze as completely useless. I turned to Lindsay instead.

"I just don't want Mac to know, honestly-"

"Don't want me to know what?"

I was suddenly having the worst day ever.

Officially. How could a girl get anymore unlucky? I was completely speechless, though. And when I say completely, I mean, like, _completely_. I could only stare back at Mac's expectant face. Lindsay tried to help me, but she was at a loss for an excuse, too.

"She almost got picked up last night," Danny shrugged. "College girls, drunken parties."

"What?" I could only faintly hear myself. Suddenly it seemed like I was light years away from the rapidly expanding group of people butting into my conversation.

"We've got Carrie Lawrence in interrogation, Mac." It looked to me like Stella was going to say more, but she stopped. I guess she noticed the tension in the room. Like there was any way _not_ to notice the tension.

I snorted.

Which earned me some strange looks.

"I'm just gonna go," I stated, making to turn away from the circle of people I'd attracted. Actually, I'm going to blame the entire experience on Danny Messer.

If he hadn't shown up when I was lost in the wonderful sensation of Don's lips on mine, I wouldn't be in this mess right now.

"No," Mac turned on me, with the look that meant I was getting another lecture in the near future. "Stay." Well, if that doesn't make me feel like an animal, I don't know what would. "I'll talk to you when I get back."

And he disappeared down the hall with Stella.

"Almost got picked up? For being drunk?" I asked, rounding on Danny.

"I didn't see you coming up with anything better," he stated. Lindsay laughed, breaking the glare I'd been building up.

"Sorry," she backpedaled when I looked at her. "You probably would have been better off just admitting that you were with Flack." I groaned, running my hands over my face.

"You owe me, Palmer."

"Whatever, Messer." I muttered, as I headed in the direction of Mac's office.

Today was going to be a long day.

--

"So I heard an amusing story today." I heard Don before I saw him. I was too busy eating a tub of ice cream.

It really is the best comfort food.

"Care to guess what it was about?" He asked, leaning down next to me. I was fairly certain he used the tactic very often in interrogation. I sighed, standing up to face him.

"A drunken college party that resulted in the near arrests of, well," I paused, glancing at his eyes and then averting my own, "me." Wow, I sounded lame.

"You can imagine my surprise at learning that this happened last night," he stated, sitting down on the couch I'd just vacated, before pulling me down to sit comfortably beneath his arm. "Considering _I_ was with you last night. And I don't remember any drunken college girls."

"You can blame Danny," I murmured, looking down, which caused my hair to slip from its place behind my ear.

"Blame Danny," he repeated. I looked up, shaking my head slightly to get my hair out of my eyes. He was grinning at me, laughter apparent in his swimming pool blue eyes. And before I could register what was actually going on, he was kissing me in that mind blowing, brain impairment way of his.

Don Flack was definitely going to be the death of me.

Apparently he'd cleared my good name with Mac, although I wasn't entirely sure that it was for the better. Because now I was fairly certain that he'd be on the prowl, and I wasn't sure I could keep things from him.

Fact of the matter was, Mac Taylor could be scary when he wanted to be.

And I'm not just referring to the looks he gives you when he's lecturing you.

"I had it worked out with Mess, you know," Don stated from over his bottle of beer. I brought mine down from my lips, tilting my head with a questioning gaze.

"What does that mean?" I asked with a shake of my head, setting my beer down on the coffee table in front, well, to the side of me. As it happens, my feet were actually on the other side of Don's lap, which was currently playing host to my calves.

I realize that sounds very, uh, suggestive. But it wasn't. So, uh. Apologies.

"He wasn't going to tell anyone," he replied, following my lead and depositing his beer next to mine. "I didn't want you in any more trouble with Mac." My heart swelled. Good, sweet Lord above, he was _so_ perfect. "Plus," he picked his beer back up, "I've caught the Messers in a few compromising situations."

At which point, I busted out laughing.

--

It didn't take me too long to return to my old self, complete with my irrational ideas about men and dating. Which was a problem, I'll admit, but it didn't stop me from reacting the way I normally did. And I was kind of hoping it wouldn't get to this. But the thing was, I still wasn't sure what on earth the reason Don wanted to be with me was.

Except for the fact that I apparently have awesome making out skills, and maybe that my apartment is excessively comfortable. I mean, I'd only been to his apartment once in the near month and a half I'd known him. Or the month I'd been dating him. Your pick on which sounds better. But mainly it was because he claimed it wasn't a home, I think, so I'm not sure that it qualifies as a reason. Apparently, his apartment was just a place to sleep.

Although, he had an incredibly comfortable couch. Like, infinitely many times more comfortable than mine. But it could also probably singlehandedly ruin a person's back, so. I would give him that my apartment did have more comfortable beds...

Which brought me back to my irrationality.

The thought had been in my head since our second date had ended. But I'd brushed it aside. Mainly because it had taken a month to get to our second date, and I was completely willing to milk my time for all it was worth. There was a tiny part of me, too, that was holding out hope for the possibility that it wouldn't happen, because, yeah, it was true, I was in love with him. And when I say that, what I mean is, I was in love with him hook, line, and sinker.

The only problem being that I was being irrational. Go figure.

It had been that evening, after Don had been called back to work. And I had been with Haley when he called me. And I don't know why I hadn't expected this. It's not like it wasn't something that ordinary couples did.

Not that I was considering us an ordinary couple either. It's sort of difficult when your boyfriend's a hardcore cop.

But I had been happy to see his name on my screen when The Lost Trailers started singing about "that holler back in the woods."

"Hey," I smiled, answering my phone while driving. Really, I think it's pretty inevitable that you'll answer your phone while driving more than a few times in your life. Besides, does the no talking on the phone rule while driving really count when you're on the phone with a cop?

I was really going to have to relearn the laws of New York State sometime soon.

Although that probably wouldn't happen until I finally got myself a New York driver's license. As it was, mine still proudly displayed Tennessee.

"Hey." Even when he was tired he sounded, well, alluring. "I've got the weekend off." That's when the stoplight in my head turned yellow. "And I was thinking we could go out." And that's when it turned red.

And I slammed on my brakes. In New York City traffic. I was not at a stop light. Suddenly I was understanding why there were rules about driving with cell phones. And Haley, with her legs in an Indian position in my front seat, gave me a look that was clearly frightened for her life. Right, okay. Imaginary stoplights don't count. I'll have to remember that.

"Uh," I paused. "I'm really busy this weekend, Donnie." I was so quiet that I don't think he heard me, anyway. And I really didn't want him to try any harder to get a date with me, so I cut him off before he could get another word out. "Look, I gotta go, Haley's with me. But," I paused again, listening to him breathing in my ear. "I'll see you soon."

"Line, is everything okay?" He was genuinely concerned, and I was close to spilling my guts right there. Haley's look of fear had suddenly turned into understanding, and a certain amount of, what was it, annoyance?

"Yeah, it's fine. I just have to go," I reiterated.

"Okay. I'll see you next week." His words were deliberate and slow, and I could hear the perplexity and concern shinning through and I was really ready to throw my phone out of Haley's open window. Because I couldn't understand where I was at, all my internal wiring was getting crisscrossed. And I didn't know what to do next.

Except what I always did.

"Bye, Don." And I don't know what the hell possessed me in that moment, but I murmured a quiet "I love you," before snapping my phone shut. Which just reminded me, very explicitly, that I was, quite possibly, the least intelligent person on the planet at that moment. And of the fact that I was undeniably irrational.

Which Haley seemed to agree with.

"Liney," she stated from beside me. "Liney, this is different than in the past."

"No," I shook my head in resolution, keeping my eyes forward and away from hers. "It's not."

"Sure it is," she persisted. "He's not like all those other guys."

"Sure he is, he's a guy," I retorted. I notice, vaguely, that my knuckles were turning white.

"But the way you feel about him and the way he feels about you are completely different from the past." She opened her door, stepping out onto the side runner so I couldn't drive off. I was just glad she had somewhere to be, otherwise I'd never hear the end of this, and mainly I was just in a hurry to get out. "Just," she let the word hang in the air until I looked her in the eyes, "Caroline. Running away's not going to get you anywhere."

"Yes it will. It'll get me away from here."

"Fine," she stepped down, but before closing her door added, "Just be back on Monday. Or I'm coming after your ass."

Which wasn't something I was looking forward to.

_X-posted to livejournal. Surprise, surprise. ;)_

_Okay, don't hate me for this. It's been in the story since the beginning. And, hey, it's not always domestic bliss. And I promise I'll explain it more later. :) But, strangely, I kind of like this chapter…I do realize it just sort of ends, though, and I'm sorry about that, what I wanted would have been twice as long…!_

_**Aria DeLoncray:**__ Thanks. :) I hope you still like it after this…;)_

_**iamagaraeagas:**__ Good. :) Yeah, I was really looking forward to the kiss. It made me feel pretty giddy just writing it. ;) Thanks for reviewing!_

_**browner864:**__ I really like that idea. I imagine I'll probably be using it, though, obviously not right away! Poor Flack…I bet he's completely confused by her now. Anyway, thanks so much for your reviews! I love them. :)_

_And thanks to everyone who reads and adds this story to their alerts._

_Let me know how you think I'm doing, if you're feeling up to it. ;)_

_-Piper_


	12. Labradors and Coonhounds

**Disclaimer: I don't own CSI: New York, Bass Pro Shops, Kenny Chesney, the Chattanooga Lookouts, the University of Tennessee at Chattanooga, the Dukes of Hazzard, or Remington, Redhead, and Browning as they relate to hunting. I do own Caroline, Justin, William, Emily, Amy, mom and dad, and the children Palmer, as well as Haley Oakley, Jen and Jess Hennessey, Jimmy, Jeremy Collins, and Philip Hayes. I also own the assorted dogs, Boone, Remington, Browning, Red, Bo, Luke, and Jesse.**

It was true that I wasn't looking forward to the repercussions of returning after Monday. But the fact of the matter was that I didn't _have_ to be back until Wednesday morning to give my class their final exam. And, in realizing that, it turns out that I hadn't really been lying to Don at all by saying that I was going to be busy.

I had to write a final exam.

Damn.

As if that didn't make my life suck any more.

I was mentally calculating the amount of time it would take me to run through my apartment and gather all of the assorted crap I would need. Not that I really cared about what I had, mainly I was just interested in taking a little advice from Kenny Chesney. I needed to be on the road. Just me and my radio.

Well, and Boone, too. Because whatever you'd like to say about me, I'm _not_ an advocate of cruelty to animals.

Not that I know of anyone who is. I mean, that wouldn't be the most intelligent thing in the world to say to someone. Or to be proud of. Or anything.

Clearly I was trying to keep myself distracted. Which made things even more suckier when I pulled into the parking lot. If suckier's even a word. Which it probably isn't. But, then, it's not like that's ever stopped me before, as Haley would so kindly point out.

And walking into my apartment to find a fiery red sheet of hair hanging on the back of my couch made me think that Don had been right about how I probably shouldn't have a spare key in very nearly plain sight. But I had known that, hadn't I? He was a New York Detective, and he'd be an expert on anything related to personal safety.

God, I needed to turn off my thoughts.

I gave a frustrated...well, noise. I'm not sure what it was, but it alerted Jess to my return. She stood up, as Boone trotted around the corner. I ignored them both for the moment, heading for my bedroom. And I was basically standing on my head to retrieve a suitcase from underneath my bed when Jess finally spoke.

"So." She let it linger in the air. Like she expected me to just tell her everything. Just like that.

"It's not like I'm leaving forever," I grunted. Okay, so maybe I am basically just telling her everything.

"Okay," Jessie was looking rather bewildered as I started to toss random, assorted clothes and such into my bag.

"Don't try to stop me," I mumbled, giving another one of my noises of frustration as I realized I hadn't unplugged my laptop that morning. Which really shouldn't be that frustrating, but when you leave things like that plugged in the battery just gets worse. And suddenly you have to plug it in seven hundred times a day, and you can only unplug it for about thirty seconds before it cuts off on you. _Technology_.

"I won't," Jess stated. "I was just curious when I got a text from our mutual friend that said 'she's running.' And since I was pretty sure my sister was nowhere near Haley today, I had to assume that it was you." She appraised me, as she sat down beside my suitcase and book bag. Boone was sitting at the end of the bed, watching me and watching her, like we were some sort of television show or something. "I'll admit, I wanted to watch, because, as far as I can remember, you're not much of a runner."

"Jessie," I whined. I could feel my eardrums pounding, echoing that of my heartbeat, as I finally stopped running around the apartment and set to zipping everything up. "I just need some time, okay?"

"I'm a pretty good listener, Palmer," she regarded me, as she stood in front of me, watching me get Boone's leash loose. I'd almost gone to my kitchen to grab a beer before I realized that I needed to clear my head, not get myself killed. Or arrested, as the case may be. Because, honestly, that wasn't really the way I was planning on running into anyone. Not that I wanted to run into anyone.

Except for that little flicker deep down inside me that told me I was in love with him and that I shouldn't be running away and that running into him was just what I needed.

But it wasn't too hard to ignore.

Because at that moment, I really just wanted to get away. I sighed, as I stood up from where Boone had been happily wagging her tail at the prospect of being put on a leash.

"And Haley Oakley likes to stick her nose into things that she shouldn't," I replied, opening my door and waiting for her to leave before me. But when I fumbled for the extra key underneath that stupid dog statue that William had given me, I realized, with an unattractive groan, of course, that she had my key.

"I'll keep it," she shrugged. "And I won't give it to anyone who shouldn't have it."

"That's not really keeping it, is it?" I muttered as I stepped onto the elevator, but I let it drop.

And then I was hastily shoving things into the back of my truck, and getting frustrated as Boone stared up at me, but wouldn't get in the car. Which was particularly annoying because it meant I had to pick her up and that was getting more and more difficult these days, as she was now about the size of a small lab. And she was still growing.

But everything was fine; I was finally alone with my radio, my truck, the road, and my dog. And I was on the way _home_. Which felt good to think, despite the circumstances. Or, well, it would have been despite the circumstances, had I not seen a familiar silver colored car pulling in as I was just down the road.

And I realized, with a sinking feeling filling up the pit of my stomach, that I had blown him off. Not that I hadn't known it when I was doing it. But it hadn't sunk in until then. And I felt pretty terrible about it.

Because he didn't deserve that, no matter my insecurities.

The problem was, I just couldn't bring myself to get past that.

--

I woke up to saliva in my face. Which, I don't care how much you love dogs, is pretty much entirely disgusting. But I couldn't help but grin as I ran my hand over the soft pitch black fur.

"Hey, Luke," I stated, sitting up to better look at him. He was getting old, but that wasn't anything new. It was strange the way you would think dogs age. You expected them to be like you, but they weren't. Their lives were a lot faster than yours.

I idly scratched my lab's head as I stared up at the blank ceiling of my childhood room. Also a blank white wall, in case you're wondering. I don't think I stared at ceilings quite as much as a child as I do now.

Actually, I don't think I slept as much as a child as I do now.

Which is ridiculous, since I should be living the high life as a twenty seven year old. You know, alcohol, late night parties, men.

Except for the part where I don't do that.

Yeah.

I grunted, slapping a hand to my forehead, just as the doorbell rang. I don't know, for some reason I was really hoping that I could just use physical force to empty my brain's thoughts. And it was all the more unfortunate, therefore, that things don't work like that. Well.

I meandered slowly down the stairs and through the living room to open the front door. It was a good thing that I knew the man at the door particularly well, because, I realized, I was still in pajamas and my hair was a little crazy.

What can I say; I got in in the wee early hours of the morning. And I was still fairly exhausted. Because life sucked.

"Hey, Jimmy," I murmured with a plastered on smile. Luke whined beside me, lightly, and I heard his tail hitting the hardwood floor. Clearly, someone wanted some attention. And Jimmy was obliged to help.

"Hey, Carolina," he grinned at me, reaching down to give Luke a good rubdown. I leaned against the door frame, watching. "Our Southern bred New Yorker finally done come home, huh?" I shook my head as I bit my lip. He wasn't changing anytime soon. "Aw, what's the matter? None of them Yankee boys suit your fancy?"

"What're you doing here?" I asked, pointedly, avoiding the question. He looked slightly taken a back, and I felt kind of bad about it. It wasn't like he knew that I happened to be madly in love with one of those 'Yankee boys.'

"I heard that good for nothing brother of yours was in town," he stated, finally straightening, which caused Luke to whine a little bit more.

Geeze, you'd think he was mistreated.

And I knew for a fact that he wasn't.

"Jim," my brother's familiar voice started up behind me. "Christ, Liney, it's nearly noon and you haven't gotten up yet?"

"Forgive me, Justin," I turned around to face him with a sarcastic look. "I'm sorry; it's my fault that it takes a day to drive from New York to Tennessee."

"You know it is," he grinned at me. Still the same old Justin Palmer. And nothing was going to change that.

"Where is everybody?" You had to admit it was pretty sad that I was the only person to answer the door at twelve o'clock in the afternoon on a Saturday.

"Mom and Dad had some sort of business lunch," he made a face, which made me laugh. Despite the fact that he was thirty years old, he was still just a big kid at heart. "And William and Amy are out of town, so Em's got all the kids. They went to the zoo, I think. And they're meeting up with mom and dad for a Lookouts game tonight."

"I'm glad no one feels like they need to abandon anything for me," I muttered, bending down to pet Luke. Which, of course, made him suddenly, particularly, content. _Dogs_. Gosh.

Luckily before I could realize that I was sort of, shall we say, exposing myself to Jimmy, Justin had stepped around me, which meant I had to stand up and turn around. Sometimes you do need to just thank the heavens for having over protective older brothers.

I blushed. Great.

"Well, it's not like anyone was expecting you," Justin stated with a raise of his eyebrows, causing them to disappear beneath the shadow of his hat momentarily.

"Where are _you_ going then?"

"Fishing," Jimmy grinned at me. Which made me blush a little more. Okay, yeah, I dated him once or twice. And he was really nice. He always had been. I just didn't have that spark when I was near him. That overwhelming sense that I could give myself over to him completely and feel protected and safe and like he wouldn't take advantage of me.

"So it is perfect that you did come home," Justin continued where Jimmy had given up. "You get to take care of the dogs. Because you know it's no fun when they go fishin'."

"'Course not," I rolled my eyes. I couldn't really say that I wasn't okay with that. I mean, I was an adamant dog lover. So was the rest of my family. Which meant that I was now being left with six dogs, including Boone.

But at least they wouldn't be fussing over why I was home.

"Thanks, Liney," Justin grinned. "I knew I could count on you." He winked at me. It was easy to see why so many girls in this city would be pining after him. What wasn't so clear was why he never bothered to settle down. That even worried _me_ sometimes, and I was coming close to his age myself.

As I was reminded by the summertime, and my ever approaching birthday. It wasn't something that I had been paying attention to in New York. Mostly, days in the city all seemed the same to me. It was different down here, where the leaves got thick and overwhelmingly _green_.

"Whatever, JJ," I laughed as he made a face over his shoulder, before hauling himself up into Jimmy's Chevy Silverado, leaving only my F-250 and his Toyota Tacoma in the normally overflowing driveway. Living in a college town, we generally had more than our fair share of people in our slightly oversized house. Not gonna lie.

And yet I was suddenly alone. Or relatively alone.

Actually, I had the company of our very redneck slew of dogs. And when I say redneck, I mean redneck. Like, hardcore redneck. It's what I get for being raised in Tennessee. Let me explain.

My parents were in their twenties when Dukes of Hazzard became a popular show. And because their old lab, at the time, just happened to be named Jesse, they only thought it was fitting that when he passed and they went looking for new dogs to name them Bo and Luke. Luke was slightly older than Bo, a black lab and a yellow lab, just like it should be. Secretly, I think they might have changed Jesse's name to Jesse, just so they could easily back up their claim. But who am I to challenge the authority of my parents?

My brothers, on the other hand, are very, very fond of hunting, all things considered, and decided to be incredibly weird and name their dogs after hunting suppliers. And thus I was left with William's dog Red, after RedHead, a red-haired blue tick coonhound, and Justin's dogs, Remington, a more traditional tan and black coonhound, and Browning, a chocolate lab.

Just to top things off, I also had Boone-dog, my lanky, crazy, mutt of a puppy. And, how lucky for me, I had an exam to write.

Just me, six dogs, a computer, a calculator, and various pages of calculus spewed out before me. I could only hope that none of our dogs were overly hateful of math.

The last thing I needed was for a dog to eat my homework.

--

"Caroline. You love this boy, right?"

Okay, so this was pretty much the whole reason I'd come home, to have someone else try to push through my ridiculous barrier on third dates and, well, sex.

"Yeah, mama," I paused, looking up at her from where I was laying on my bed, and she was running her fingers through my hair. "I do." Honestly, I kind of felt like I was seven years old.

Not that that's necessarily a bad thing.

"Then what's the problem?" I sighed, turning my head to bury my face in the pillow with a groan. "Liney." She was doing this on purpose. It wasn't like she didn't know what the problem was. It wasn't like she hadn't been there every other time it had happened. She just wanted me to say it. And I really didn't want to. I was prepared to stare her down.

"I'm afraid," I stated, meekly. So much for staring her down. Way to go, Caroline.

"Some things are more important than fear, you know." She was smiling down at me. Like just saying that was suddenly going to make things better. I knew that. I'd been told that plenty of times. That didn't stop me from having an issue with men.

"Like sex?" I grumbled. She laughed. My mother is laughing during a conversation about sex with her twenty seven year old virgin daughter. Needless to say, I'm pretty much entirely miserable.

"Honey, if he loves you as much as you love him, he'll wait," she leaned to kiss my forehead. "And if not, just promise to invite me to your shotgun wedding."

"Mom!" I rolled over to face Boone, who was lying beside me, despite the fact that she didn't particularly like it when dogs were on the bed. Old habits die hard. "You're really not helping."

"You're right." I could hear her slight perplexity. I shouldn't have been surprised in the least when my dad took her place. But I kind of was. I mean, as awkward as it is to talk to my mother about my nonexistent sex life and the fact that I'm very much wasting away in love, it's got to be a hundred times worse with my overprotective _father_.

"Caroline." But I turned immediately when I heard his soft voice, which was very painfully contradictory to the stocky, built man beside me with his graying dark hair. "Do you remember seventh grade?"

"How could I forget," I rolled my eyes, as I sat up, eye to eye, or nearly so, with my dad. I knew exactly where he was going with this. "I was twelve, dad, it's sort of irrelevant."

"It's completely relevant, Liney," he smiled at me. "You broke up with a perfectly fine fellow because he wanted to kiss you."

"I didn't want to be kissed," I responded. I could see twelve year old me freaking out when a twelve year old Philip Hayes leaned forward to kiss me. I wasn't having any of that. I avoided him dutifully for the rest of middle school. I'm weird like that.

"But when you finally let it happen the next year, you somehow realized that you sort of liked it," he cocked an eyebrow at me. "Maybe a little too much." I blushed, looking down, thinking of the times he'd caught me in compromising situations with boys that he knew and boys that he didn't. And I even caught a little bit of that old flame of indignation at the fact that he'd told the parents of the boys he knew.

Like me making out in the weaponry section of _his_ store, subsequently causing said boy to get fired, wasn't bad enough.

"You know I want to wait," I mumbled, thanking my mother silently for raising me with relatively lengthy hair. It created a nice shield between me and my father's prying eyes.

"So wait," he started. "He's not Jeremy Collins."

Well, don't be too subtle about it, daddy. I swallowed.

"Talk to him about it, Liney," he smiled down at me. That fatherly smile that made me feel safe and warm, whether I was having a raging war internally or not. "He'll understand."

"How do you know?" I really, really, really felt like a five year old then. Looking up in my father's mirror green eyes and knowing that he'd have all the answers.

"Because of the way he obviously makes you feel." He kissed my forehead, like my mother had before him, before leaving me alone in my room.

And I stared up at my blank white ceiling with my puppy curled up beside me. And I stayed like that for several hours before I realized, with a heavy jolt in my stomach that I knew exactly what my dad was talking about.

It was that feeling that I'd never had around Jimmy. The one where I felt safe and protected. _And like he wouldn't take advantage of me_.

And the reason for the sudden lurch in my stomach?

That feeling was always meticulously present when I was around Don Flack, Jr.

_X-posted to livejournal._

_Hopefully you'll forgive me for geeking out over redneck things. I'm kind of in love with Justin Palmer…The Lookouts are the minor league baseball team, by the way. And forgive me for taking so long and not really giving you anything. I'm sorry. I kind of got a little stuck up on research and dogs and such. _

_I'm kind of a freak._

_**AliceWarwillow: **__Thanks so much for leaving a review! :)_

_**iam: **__Oh, thanks. Although I don't know if you're so eager after this spew of random thoughts…;) Thanks for reviewing!_

_**Soleil Mar: **__Haley's a little crazy, and it's not always clear why they're even friends, but she is always true in the end. So even having to put up with being her doll is okay in the end. ;) Thanks for the reviews…and hopefully this chapter isn't __**too**__ awful._

_**browner864:**__ Oh, the fourth is definitely getting some blame in how long it's taking me to get anywhere. Of course, I also blame the sudden lack of re-runs at noon…You've pretty much hit the nail on the head when it comes to Caroline, though…;) Thanks for continuing to review! They make my day!_

_And, yeah, maybe Justin's friend's named Jimmy because of a certain Mr. Cahill's portrayal of a certain Olympic Goalie…_

_I can't say for sure. ;)_

_-Piper_


	13. Twenty One

**Disclaimer: I don't own CSI: New York. I do own Caroline, and mom and daddy Palmer, as well as Haley Oakley and Jeremy Collins.**

I laid my head against the door with an echoing groan. Which was sort of creepy, by the way. And may, indeed, be part of the reason I haven't spent much time here, aside from anything Don has to say about the place. But I'd already been down to the station, and I'd even popped my head into Sullivan's on the way over. Though, in retrospect, I don't know why I'd think that'd be a place to look.

There was all of one very lonesome looking person, besides the barkeep, who was, I assume, calling the guy a cab. Which made me realize that it was only like seven in the morning. And that, of course, made me more anxious as it meant more waiting, because I couldn't very well go barging into someone else's apartment or anything at _seven a.m._

Although, it was suddenly making a lot more sense that officers were scarce when I'd been staring blankly down at his empty desk. Like I was confused by the fact that it was empty. Well, it was sort of confusing, because normally there's a slew of paperwork spread out, and today it was neatly pushed off to the side, but I don't think I even registered that until after I'd been snapped out of my blank mindset by a man in a suit.

Who I assumed was a highly ranking official, and, therefore, I pretty much made a run for it. You know, after a random selection of polite words that probably didn't even make any sense.

Uh, I hope that doesn't come back to bite me in the future.

But now I was standing in front of his apartment, all but banging my head on the door. And, have I mentioned, I'm just one big ball of nervous energy right now? I mean, I had been all day Sunday, and the drive back to the Big Apple was absolute hell. All because mom and dad put that knot of anxiety in my system. And I'd even taken the shorter route back. Well, what was supposed to be the shorter route. But we can discuss the benefits, or non-benefits, as it were, of going through Richmond or not another time.

Then again, glancing at the empty, echoing hallway I'm standing in, maybe there's no time like the present.

And, I mean, any way you look at it, thirteen or fourteen hours is an exceptionally long drive and is adding the extra hour really doing anything for me? Or even hurting me in the long run?

I shrugged.

I just shrugged in the middle of an empty hallway. I'm certainly just becoming aware of how strange this is. I'm standing in front of my boyfriend's apartment, shrugging to myself and thinking about the best way to get to and from Chattanooga, Tennessee. Okay, yeah. Go ahead and ask.

What the hell is wrong with me?

But I figure I really have nothing better to do for the next twenty-four hours. And, one way or another, sitting in front of his apartment door will probably lead to me seeing him. I mean, my options being he's got to come home sometime or I'll get arrested. Unless he were to go to my apartment, not that I think he would. But, well, if that's the case I still have getting arrested to fall back on. Because that's always fun.

Not that I would know or anything.

Wouldn't you know, just when I'd turned around to lean back against the door my phone starts singing. I twisted it between my fingers, hoping and not hoping that it was Don. And then when I finally looked at the screen, I discovered it was just Haley Oakley, calling to bug me about whether I had, indeed, spoken to the aforementioned person or not.

I think ignoring her calls is a pretty clear indication. But that might just be me.

"Caroline?"

He was leaning against the wall at the corner of the hallway, studying me, with an expression that showed a certain amount of shock, confusion, frustration, and an apparent lack of sleep. In all the time I'd known Don Flack, I don't think I'd ever seen him without a tie given that he was in a collared shirt.

And yet here we were.

Unfortunately, I was having a few problems. My breath had caught in my throat when I'd heard his voice, and now I pretty much felt like I was falling apart. My mouth couldn't create comprehensible sounds. And I was pretty sure my legs were about to give out at any moment.

Although that does have the potential to be a decent story, I'd like it if it weren't. Just clearing that up. When I didn't say anything after a couple minutes, and we just happened to be standing rather awkwardly in his creepy, echoy hallway, he sighed and rubbed a hand at one of his shimmery blue eyes.

Which were still awfully sexy, in case you're wondering.

Is it wrong that I'm still, apparently, turned on even in a situation like this?

"Guess I won't be needing this, then," he murmured. Luckily, he gave a slight flick of his wrist; otherwise I was going to be confused all the way into next week. But I saw what was there.

A plane ticket.

Good freaking Lord, how did I get to be so lucky? Because it's not like I deserve it.

"I'm really, really sorry," I started, suddenly. Like I'd suddenly realized that I was standing across from him. His face turned up in a slight smile, and his eyes were glinting that way they did when they were looking at just me, that emotion that I couldn't ever read.

Obviously I need some relationship practice.

"You know, this moment was always a lot more romantic in my head."

Um, okay. I should've come back with something witty, but at the moment, all I could think of was that he was very, very, very attractive. And yes, I really did think it with that many 'very's.

And the next thing I knew, I was making out with him on his excessively comfortable couch.

--

"So you wanna tell me why you up and left like that?"

It should probably be illegal for an accent to sound that amazing. It should also be illegal for a man to taste that good. I suppose that's why I've never gotten a job at law making. Although, I'm sure if I got my cousin to teach me, I could be just as proficient as the next.

"Um," I paused. He really needed to stop being so damn sexy if I was ever going to get through this. "Third dates."

"You're gonna have to help me out here, Line," he stated, placing himself on the coffee table and his hands on my knees, so that we were facing each other. "Third dates?"

His eyebrows were lifting in that attractive way they always did, by the way. In case you're wondering.

And yes, it was making it sort of difficult to concentrate.

"Well, not the third date so much," I was speaking uncommonly slowly, or, at least, I felt like I was. And it wasn't helping matters that his hands were incredibly warm on my legs. "More like after the third date." He was still looking at me with that look. "Like, _right_ after the third date. The inviting me in part."

He was silent for a lengthy minute after that. I found myself fumbling about uncomfortably. I mean, it's not like I could move far, being locked between his hands and his knees. And I swear my lip was going to start bleeding from the force of my bite if he didn't say anything soon.

"You know you can turn that offer down, Liney?" His eyes flickered up to mine. Well, as far as I'm concerned, turning down an offer to have sex with a man is pretty much telling him you don't want to be in the relationship anymore. But, hey, that's why I haven't made it past second dates, and, of course, why I'm not married. At twenty seven. Almost twenty eight.

Yeah, I just needed to reiterate my age for you one more time.

"I'm weird," I started, eliciting a short laugh from him. "I mean that. When I was twelve, my first boyfriend tried to kiss me and I broke up with him because of that." Maybe the fact that I was thirteen when I got my first kiss doomed me to relationship issues. Huh. "And then, ten years down the road I'm in New York City, and I'm dating a guy that I kind of like, but I don't really know yet. I'm fairly certain that I was pretty intoxicated at the end of our third date. And I didn't turn him down. But halfway through him trying to get my shirt off, something inside my brain clicked and I realized what I was doing. Luckily his roommate came home, because I'm not entirely sure that he would have stopped."

He was tense. I could tell because my hands had idly been messing with his. And neither of his hands were moving. And normally, he couldn't stop fiddling with them.

"Uh," I dared a glance at his face. He was looking down at our hands. "Bottom line is, I'd always planned on waiting. And after holding on to that for so long, I don't think I can just give it up." I tried to stop the small smile that was overthrowing my features. "And I'm afraid that I won't be able to stop myself around you."

He looked up at me, and I had a brief glance at his gorgeous eyes before his lips were on mine again. And it was heavenly. Seriously. You should try it sometime.

"I'm not gonna push anything on you, Line," he murmured in my ear when we were done. I was sort of distracted listening to the thrumping of his heart. "You should know that."

"I do know that, Donnie," I replied, leaning back from him but not far enough to break the embrace we'd moved into. That felt too amazing to break. I'd be happy to stay like that for several hours to come.

"What's his name?" He asked, quietly, in a dangerous, low voice.

"Jeremy." It was surprising how forthcoming I was with information. "Jeremy Collins."

And I probably should have realized that it wasn't a very intelligent thing for me to do, giving my Detective boyfriend the name of one of my ex-boyfriends. But at that moment I was distracted. Completely distracted. Because I'd was thinking, well, hoping, that I'd finally understood that unreadable emotion in his bright blue eyes.

And his next statement just confirmed it.

"I love you, Caroline."

And I was about to respond likewise, when I felt my pocket vibrating, and resolutely decided I needed a new ringtone. It felt strange, foreign, to be interrupted by my phone and not his. Not that I wanted to be interrupted at all. But it was definitely my phone, and it was definitely Haley on the other end.

Sometimes, friends were worse than New York criminals.

--

Sometime later, and I couldn't be sure how long that was, since we'd, apparently, fallen asleep, I found myself tracing the edges of the NYPD badge at his hip. Having the brain that I had, I was particularly concentrated on the number. Especially because it would have been symmetrical vertically if the numbers had been different.

As it were, if you folded it down the middle it'd all line up except for the numbers. Although, yeah, we can argue there are only like four different four digit numbers that would be symmetrical in the typeface they had. So it was fairly unlikely. That didn't mean it didn't bother me.

I was, however, rather amused that the numbers added up to twenty one. Don't ask me why, I don't know. It was just something to smirk at. Which I did. Check me out, now.

I was on my twentieth time tracing the seven on his badge when I realized he was awake, and felt the hairs on my neck standing up due to the fact that he was watching me. And, even though I wasn't looking at him, I could see clearly in my mind's eye the smile he was wearing.

And I was just about to start tracing the one, to complete my twenty first round, when his phone started ringing. And he sat up, pulling me with him, because we were rather sufficiently tangled together.

"Flack."

I guess they'd found out he hadn't gone to Tennessee after his crazy girlfriend after all. And no, for your information, the gesture wasn't lost on me. Especially because he'd apparently tried to come sooner, but between getting an airplane ticket and the sudden surge in homicides over the weekend, he'd been forced to put it off until today.

Or, well, yesterday.

And then I was spewing a series of unprintable words as I pulled my limbs away from his. My heart settled slightly at the realization that it was only seven thirty, but it didn't stop its frantic beating.

Because eight o'clock on the dot was final exam time. And I was still in Don's apartment. And, I felt color rising on my face as I realized I was in a tank top and cut off jean shorts.

Definitely not work appropriate. But it's not like I could do anything about that now.

"Do you want me to drop you somewhere, Line?"

I was fumbling to find my flip-flops. Seriously, I couldn't have chosen worse attire had I actually tried to. And the last thing I wanted to do was eff up my last day, aside from turning my grades in. I was just glad that course evaluations had already been turned in.

Don, on the other hand, was lacing up his shoes and slipping a tie over his head. One that did not match, it's true. He has a problem, but I'm kind of fond of it, so there you go.

"Can I have a coat or something?" I asked in response. Hey, I at least wanted to cover up a little bit for my not quite legal students.

"Where's the fire?" He asked, but handed me a long sleeved shirt, anyway. I smiled, feeling my heart rate increase again.

I swear, if I don't have a heart attack one of these days, it'll be a miracle.

"I have to give a final exam in half an hour," I replied, pulling the shirt on and whipping my hair out of the back of it.

"Why are we still here, then?"

And I made it in at eight fifteen. Which was okay, besides, I mean, it's not like anyone really needed the whole three hours to finish the ten question exam.

Besides, I mean, that extra five minutes in the car really couldn't have been helped.

_X-posted to livejournal, as per usual._

_I kind of love this chapter. :) Maybe you do, too?_

_**kaypgirl: **__Almost. Too bad New York's just teeming with criminal activity…;) Thanks for leaving a review!_

_**CSINYMinute: **__Oh wow, you know how to make an author feel good, don't you? ;) I'm glad you're enjoying it, especially since it's all very spur of the moment, I only have random little story lines in my head…And pretending that you're Liney's what you're supposed to do, isn't it? I mean…she's making out with Don Flack all over the place! And I'm glad you like my characterization. That's always a hard part, especially on shows like the CSIs, since half the time they're spouting off science and legal mumbo jumbo that I haven't quite mastered entirely, yet. ;) As to a crossover with Numbers, well…I haven't ever really watched the show. Although, with Liney being Liney, I am sort of interested now…;) Thanks so much for all the reviews! They're wonderful!_

_**browner864:**__ I don't think I've mentioned before, but I really love your username. I'm not sure why, but, you know. :P And I'm glad I'm not the only one who likes a little redneck sometimes. Caroline's a little overly afraid of being intimate…but I think we all know who the man to help her with that is. ;) Thanks for the review, and I hope you like this chapter as much as I do!_

_**iam: **__It's okay; we're all fairly crazy fangirls here. ;) Donnie brings that out in the best of us. Thanks for the review! :)_

_**SexyScottishDoc: **__No need to apologize, I'm just happy that you're reading it and you're enjoying it! And, of course, there's nothing wrong with a little redneck, especially when you tack on the good ol' Southern manners and such. ;) I'm kind of worried that as Liney ages she might lose some of her rambling ability…but that wouldn't be much fun, would it? And, as to Flack making the relationship serious…I sure hope he does! ;) Thanks for the reviews and everything! It was twice as awesome because I got everything on my birthday! So thanks for that, too. ;)_

_Thanks to everybody who's reading!_

_-Piper_


	14. Ice Cold

**Disclaimer: I don't own CSI: New York or 'Asphalt Cowboy' or Jason Aldean. I do own Caroline and Daddy Palmer and Boone.**

"How can people be such jackasses?"

I kind of hate people today, if you couldn't tell. Currently I was grumbling at the traffic and construction a few blocks over from my apartment. Seriously, when the sign says merge right, you should just merge right. Things will happen a lot faster for everyone.

Stupid people.

"What?" I grunted, sinking down into the passenger seat so that I was effectively blocking my view of the road and the annoyingly bad drivers around us, while Don laughed at me.

"Get all your inappropriate language out of your system," he replied. I flushed. It really didn't take much for me these days. Not with Don. Which, let's face it, pretty much means I'm never going to get to wear the color red again. I'll blend in too well.

Not that I can say that I'm not enjoying it.

"Sure," I took to watching people milling around out my window for a moment. Anything to distract me long enough from assorted inappropriate thoughts that would no doubt find me in a heap of trouble and keep my mind on the actual conversation at hand. It was proving to be a difficult task. What with traffic at a standstill and all.

You know, due to the jerks who thought they could pass everyone else who were doing what they were supposed to do.

I have serious road rage issues sometimes. Even when I'm not driving. Actually, especially when I'm not driving.

"Don't hate me for saying it, but your apparent frustration is kind of hot, Line." I felt the heat in my nose. _My nose._ And I wasn't even looking at him. I could only imagine how much worse it would be then.

"You know what's weird?" I mumbled, biting my lip as my hair fell forward to hide my face from his wandering eyes. Although, yeah, I knew he was grinning. He was definitely enjoying the effects he had on me.

Which, come on, is completely unfair. Would I be such a tease if it were even humanly possible for me to be?

No.

At least, I rather doubt it.

"What's that?" I made the mistake of looking at him, and found myself staring into his gorgeous blue eyes. They were currently sparkling in amusement, if you really care to know. So it took me a few minutes to regain my thought pattern.

"I'm apparently the only one in the family with road rage," I replied, fumbling with my seat belt. "Nothing, and I mean _nothing_, ever phases my dad when it comes to traffic. He was a regular asphalt cowboy when he was younger."

The silence beside me was somewhat confusing. Until I looked over to realize that he was looking at me with that sexy lift of his eyebrows, signaling that he was, apparently, confused. Oh, right. Again, this is what I get for being from the South. And deciding to live in the North. I mean, who does that? Really.

"Jason Aldean will explain," I grinned, already switching the CDs out and flipping through to Asphalt Cowboy. Don shook his head at me. And I grinned a little wider.

I really hadn't ever planned to live in the North, long term. But, these days, I was thinking maybe that was exactly what I wanted.

--

I was moaning when the doorbell rang. And, quite suddenly, I was finding that I was particularly glad that I'd conveniently forgotten earlier in the week to tell the Messers that I had a spare key out front. I mean, I was, well, moaning. And I'll just tell you, it's not really a noise I'm fond of. I glanced up at Don who was running his hand over my neck.

So I guess someone liked it. But, really, it's not my fault that when we're sitting on the couch he, apparently, likes to save my lips for last, starting with my neck and my shoulders instead. Just at the moment, though, his smile was a half written amusement, while his eyes were closed with his head resting on the top of the couch. Because apparently you can do that when you're tall enough.

The doorbell rang again. His amusement became slightly more pronounced as I watched him. And then his hand was lightly hitting my knee. Oh, right. I guess he can't go anywhere until I've moved. I felt my face heating up again and suppressed the urge to groan.

It's not fair at all. He laughed as I muttered words under my breath, standing up behind me. You know, now that he could. And we both stopped in front of the door. Like we were headed toward something incredibly momentous or something.

"Vulgarities out?" He quipped, and I rolled my eyes in response. But instead of answering, I pulled my hips into his, and then lifted myself to the tips of my bare toes to let my lips meet his. What can I say, I was feeling flirty today. Well, that, and we hadn't quite gotten that far when we were on the couch.

Yeah.

And the doorbell rang one more time.

"Coming, geeze," I sighed, running a hand through my unruly hair. But I was still smiling and that counts for something, right?

--

This was my big bad third date. First, we headed to an early dinner downtown. Very casual. And I mean _very_. We would've just had vendor food, but Don had vetoed that idea. Apparently, he's seen the very frightening places where the stands are actually kept.

Well. Go ahead and ruin another food source for me.

Although, I felt pretty bad after saying such, being that he actually looked put out. It's not like I really meant it. The place that gave me food poisoning would still probably be a great place so long as I didn't, you know, get more food poisoning. In all actuality, it was even a pretty fantastic place when I got food poisoning. So, you know. There you go.

And then we wasted time wandering around. I mean, not to be egotistical or anything, but I'm pretty awesome at wandering around. So awesome, in fact, that I had no idea where we were in relation to my truck by the time we were ready to head back. Don had just laughed, and two blocks later I found myself in a certain amount of shocked surprise, standing in front of my car. And he'd just shook his head as he opened my door for me, with a "How have you survived this long?" escaping his lips.

Pure dumb luck, Donnie. Pure dumb luck.

Our brilliant idea to avoid even the potential of sex, there's really not a more polite way to put it, was to let Danny and Lindsay have a romantic evening to themselves, while we watched Lucy. And, really, there's nothing like a two year old to rein in the sexual activity. Which, I imagine, is a good part of the reason why they even agreed in the first place. Considering that, apparently, according to Danny anyway, Lindsay was a little reluctant to leave her one and only child with me.

And I could really blame her. She'd only known me for a month. And because of the fact that I'm one of the stupidest people in the world, I had to go and call my dog a monster. The moment said word left my mouth I was quick to realize, hey, calling the dog in your bedroom a monster's really not the most reassuring thing to say to two Detective parents who were leaving their two year old with you.

But, hey, that's me.

At least Danny didn't seem to think she was too much of a monster though, as he'd wanted to 'meet' her. And, despite the fact that she jumped up immediately, she seemed to really like him. Between me and you, what's not to like? I mean, Staten Island born and bred Italian American? And a hardcore forensic scientist/detective to boot?

Boone has good taste. But, of course, we already knew that.

"Can't be too careful about who you leave your kid with, you know?" Danny was saying, as he was stroking Boone's head, who was trying, unsuccessfully, to lick his hand, when I was brought back to the present conversation instead of mulling over the day.

"Well, technically no, I don't know, because I don't have a kid," I replied, slowly before adding, "But yeah, I do know." Boone was maneuvering herself to end up on her back. Trying to get her stomach scratched. She knows how to milk a situation. "Two nephews and a niece, and I've been alone with all three of them. Together and separately, for that matter."

"You don't have to convince me, Caroline," Danny gave me a light-hearted smile as Boone finally rolled herself onto her back.

"Crazy dog," I mumbled, effectively closing the topic. I completely understood where Lindsay was coming from. I don't know why I feel the need to defend myself so thoroughly. But, whatever. I'm strange, and we're all pretty aware of it.

"So I guess you're relieved that that Jeremy guy got himself locked up?" I cannot describe the way my stomach immediately dropped.

"What?" I was surprised. Really, really surprised. I mean, what the hell?

"Sorry," Danny was back tracking, realizing that there was probably more than just a little bit of shock to see in my features. "I thought you knew. I mean, the guy was a-"

"By who?" I asked. I really didn't care why he got arrested. I could care less at the moment, matter of fact. I guess I have a slightly one track mind. But, that's that. Danny was looking a little uncomfortable now.

"Look, Caroline, I don't want to get in the middle of a lover's feud."

"By who, Danny?" I asked again, even though I was certain I already knew the answer. Danny sighed, running his hand over Boone's head one more time before standing up to face me.

"You already know who, Liney," he stated. And all I could do was stare at him blankly. Because I was going numb with the amount of white hot rage filling my system. Which was good, in a way, since that at least meant the murderous gaze I typically adopted when I was furious wasn't showing. The last thing I wanted was for Danny and Lindsay to miss out on their evening because my boyfriend is stupid.

I don't really even remember ending up back at the front door with Danny and Lindsay on one side and me, Don, and Lucy on the other.

"Caroline?" Danny was going to ask if I was alright. I knew he was. I smiled brightly.

Maybe I over did it a bit.

"It's fine, Danny. Have a good date!"

It was definitely going to go better than mine, at any rate. I could all but guarantee you that.

--

"Talk to me, Line," Don was watching me cleaning my kitchen. It didn't really even need to be cleaned. Or, well, it wouldn't have if I hadn't spilled juice all over the counter top. But it hadn't been cleaned in a while, and there was really no time like the present, right?

I mean, aside from the fact that the decision to do so has only made it more obvious, apparently, that I don't really want to talk. But Lucy was asleep in my spare bedroom, and, I guess, there really wasn't anything else for him to do.

Damn.

I turned around at the sink, closing my eyes and starting to count, attempting any way I could to keep the anger down. I didn't need any outbursts, those would be sure to wake not only Lucy, but the rest of the building, as well. I felt his hand at the base of my neck, brushing my hair aside.

"Just tell me-"

"Damn it, Don," I turned around to face him for a moment, before slipping away from him to the other side of the tiny kitchen. "You _know_ why I'm mad, and you _know_ I have every right to be."

He closed his eyes briefly, leaning against the counter top, to where if he turned around he'd be in the same position he was in the night we first kissed. I could almost see it. And then I sort of thought I was going cross eyed, and that's when I knew it was gone. I was gone.

I was furious.

"Caroline, he'd already been in on a drug charge," he reasoned. "And with the amount we found on his person, it wouldn't be long before he ended up right back where he started. And given his history-"

"Given his history, Don? Really?" I spat back. "You can't just assume that he goes around raping every girl he meets just because your girlfriend is afraid of sex."

"I'm not saying he does," Don shook his head at me. "It's in his record, Line. He's done it before."

"Can you honestly tell me that you _didn't_ search him out?" I eyes narrowed. "That it was just happy coincidence?"

There was silence as my question hung in the air.

"No." He sighed. His face was blank. I had no idea what he was feeling, and that left me feeling even worse. I should be able to tell, shouldn't I?

"At least you didn't lie." I was surprised at how icy my tone sounded. But I was pretty good at hiding it. "As far as I know there isn't a homicide detective in the world who believes in coincidence."

"Line," he started. I'm not sure where he was going with it. I was still furious, furious at myself, furious at Danny, furious at him.

"Just don't," I stated.

And then I was in my room, staring up at my blank white ceiling, replaying the conversation over and over in my head. I was angry with him, angry that he thought he was helping me, angry that somehow he thought he could make my problems go away, angry that he was being protective when I didn't even need it.

But mostly I was angry with myself.

And that feeling only intensified the next morning when I got a phone call that made my blood run cold.

_X-posted to Livejournal._

_Dun dun dun. That's really all I have to say. I think you know what's coming next. And sorry it's on the short side._

_Actually, I do have one question…because I can't decide for myself, apparently. Should his history with Angell actually be in this? I mean, if I include it obviously it'll be an issue. But I don't absolutely have to; if you follow me, since being a fanfic writer means you can pretty much pick and choose your canon…I don't know. What do you think?_

_**kaypgirl: **__Aw, yeah. One day they'll both get it out without interruption. :) Thanks for reviewing!_

_**CSINYMinute: **__I'm definitely blushing, no worries there. ;) Yeah, I think anyone would have difficulty concentrating around Don…Anyway, I'm glad you liked it and thanks so much for reviewing! They're awesome! :D_

_**browner864: **__Yeah, Liney's a little worried about not being able to keep that promise…but who could really blame her with Don Flack around? ;) Thanks for the review! Hopefully you love this chapter, too (although, admittedly, it's probably harder to love than previous ones…but there's quite a bit of Mr. Messer in this one…). ;)_

_**iam: **__Ha, yeah, I don't think anything could make his eyes stop being insanely attractive. :) Thanks for leaving a review!_

_**SexyScottishDoc: **__Mmhm. I don't know if it's possible to stop the ramble. It might end up being more substance filled, though; as she ages…we'll just have to see. ;) And I can almost give you a binding promise that Jeremy'll be back. Almost. I may just have to take care of something else first…I still have a lot to debate when it comes to this story, if you couldn't tell. ;) Thanks for the review, it's lovely! :)_

_Thanks for reading!_

_-Piper_


	15. Dismal

**Disclaimer: I don't own CSI: New York or Scott Westerfeld or Disney or Tower of Terror or Tom Petty's Free Falling or the Smithsonian. I do own Caroline, Emily, Justin, Jared, and mom and daddy Palmer, Jess Hennessey, and Haley Oakley.**

Sometimes I really just go completely brain missing.

Which, apparently, sounds like phrases from Scott Westerfeld's novels. So I've been informed by Haley, anyway. What can I say. We'll just color me awesome and be done with it, yeah?

Not that being brain missing is an awesome thing. Actually, it pretty much sucks. Which explains why I'm standing, impatiently, in an immaculately polished and shiny silver elevator, completely soaked and trying to catch my breath. Not that catching my breath was going to slow down my heartbeat, that wasn't going to happen until this damn elevator started moving faster.

You'd think they would be, like, super quick or something in hospitals. You know, speed is important when you're trying to save lives and all that. I'm thinking maybe they should look into installing ramps and hire some professional runners or something. Things would get done a lot faster.

But no. I'm suddenly realizing just how long ten seconds really is. I've counted it at least twice, waiting for the light to move from one number to the next. And things are only that much better by the fact that the elevator is, indeed, insanely shiny. It makes a wonderful mirror. And I use the word wonderful loosely. Really, it's just reiterating the thought that my brain was literally missing until this moment.

But I still ran my jacketed right arm across my forehead to peel some of the wet strands of hair off my face.

Truthfully, things would only be better if Tom Petty's Free Falling were to come on right now.

And then if the elevator fell. Like the Tower of Terror in Disney World. Without the seats and seat belts. Which is kind of impracticable, isn't it? Maybe they should invest in belts to hook yourself in in case of emergencies of the free falling kind.

Or they could just go with the ramp idea. And simplify things altogether.

At long last, in all actuality it was about thirty seconds later, the elevator dinged and the doors opened and I sloshed out onto the equally immaculately polished white tile. Seriously, how the hell did they keep everything so _immaculately polished_?

But instead of attempting to stop the rapid beating of my heart or looking for someone to give my information I just stared down the hallway. Now my brain was just playing tricks on me. Which was cruel. Even for my brain.

Because I knew, for a fact, that I'd left him standing confused in my living room. There was no way he could be here. But the moment he turned and my eyes greeted his perfectly bright blue ones, I knew, also for a fact, that he was indeed standing just down the hallway.

What the hell?

But perhaps now would be a good time to explain. Not that there would ever really be a good time to explain. In retrospect, it's true; I'd like to avoid all memory of this day and maybe even a few days after today. And, in time, maybe that would happen. But just at the moment, I'm going to say it's particularly unlikely.

Right, anyway. When I woke up this morning, I was still feeling rather angry. Angry with Don. Angry with myself, too. So at first I was rather certain that a random sudden surge of that anger had woken me up. And I was pretty angry about that, too. Because, I mean, I was waking up to a dreary rainy day being angry with everything and everyone.

Good Lord, I was having a serious problem. I should probably get that checked out. I mean, I don't want to be one of those emo kids. Or whatever it is they're calling it these days.

Wow. Using that phrase just makes me feel old.

Anyway, not long after my jolt of anger, I realized that it was a phone waking me up. It was Mac. And, to be honest, I don't think I really even heard half of what he said, just words like Justin and hospital and, holy freaking crap, homicide.

And that was about when my brain went missing.

I didn't even have time to wonder at the fact that Don was on my couch, although, now, I'm kind of confused about that because I hadn't noticed throughout the night when I'd gone to check on Lucy. But, hey, at the time that was a pretty good thing because that meant he could stay with Lucy, who I'd only remembered being there when Boone had started running about in front of me, nearly tripping me in her haste to get outside. So, yeah, that was another plus at having Don still in my apartment.

But I do feel kind of bad about dropping that all on him, even if I am frustrated beyond belief.

I thought things were supposed to get better after you finished schooling. Huh.

Then, because I'm just _that_ awesome, I realized I had left my keys when I got to the bottom of the stairs. But I didn't want to go back up and risk getting caught up in a conversation that I wasn't ready to have. Because I can tell you the look in his eyes when I'd closed the door had very nearly convinced me not to.

There was something to be said for that, I think.

In the long run, I opted for running to the hospital that I thought Mac had told me. Through the rain. Hey, at least it turned out to be the right one, since Don was standing in the hallway. Or maybe that really didn't mean anything. I wasn't sure.

It was becoming particularly apparent that I really couldn't put everything together by myself. Meaning I was confused. Wildly confused.

--

"Caroline. It's fine." Justin swatted my hand away from him.

So much for all the rush. Apparently he just has a couple of bruises here and there. Though they are fairly unattractive and it'll probably be a little while before he gets a date.

"Why didn't you tell me you were in New York?" I asked, smacking his good shoulder. This, apparently, is not the thing to do to a 'victim.' A moment later Mac's face was suddenly at my shoulder, and his hands were lightly circling my wrists. Don was nervously fingering his memo pad at the foot of the bed.

So, uh, this is a little awkward.

Mac lifted his eyebrows. I adopted a sheepish expression and that seemed to satisfy him, as he let go of my wrists. And, can I just say, if I hadn't been so angry and frustrated and stressed out, I really probably would have _stopped breathing_ at being so close to Mac freaking Taylor.

Sometimes I'm glad I have emotions that over run my hormones.

"Sorry," I mumbled quietly. Justin was looking at me and the two Detectives with curiosity. I mean, he grinned a little when he saw me and Mac, considering, you know, I'm me and he's Mac and apparently _all_ of my siblings knew about the whole Caroline having a crush on mom's Marine buddy Mac Taylor thing. What do you know? And, even despite the fact that I barely registered being near Mac like that, I did blush pretty heavily at Justin's noticing.

Don, on the other hand, he was eying with a look of contemplation. Which, let's just admit it, is pretty spectacular for Justin. He's not the type to sit around and contemplate. But following Justin's line of sight, it became apparent why, in that Don was watching me and not him.

And, well, I'd kind of expect for the homicide detective at my hospital bed to be looking at me and not my sister if I was in his situation. I mean, wouldn't you?

So, it's not like I could really blame him for that.

Again. Can we say awkward?

"...ask you some questions," Mac was saying when I tuned back in. I had stopped paying attention when I made eye contact with Don again. Because it was quite possibly one of the strangest feelings I've ever experienced. And I sort of felt, ultimately, like I was going to explode in the long run.

I'm just not a big enough person for all these crazy emotions.

If I didn't know any better, and I do, mind you, I'd think I _was_ pregnant. And that makes me realize that if or when I _do_ get pregnant, my mood swings are probably going to be ridiculous. I hope someone warns my theoretical husband in this scenario. Otherwise, things would be rather unfortunate for him.

The problem with being locked in Don's gaze, though, was the fact that while I was still angry, because that's just how I am today, my hoard of butterflies were still wrestling their way around in my stomach.

So you can see why I felt like I was going to burst.

"Liney," Justin's voice finally drew my attention completely away from my boyfriend's entrancing stare. "You don't have to wait."

Oh. Apparently, from the expectant stares around me, I've been told to do something. So, uh, it would be nice if I really knew what that was. I don't have to wait. That's about all I've got. But I don't know what that means. Wait on what, Justin?

I was trying to communicate this question through my nonexistent telepathy skills, though Justin just wasn't getting it, so we must be on different brain waves. He was staring at me with a lifted eyebrow. And I, being entirely random, was suddenly struck by the fact that he wasn't wearing a ball cap. Which is weird because he usually never takes them off.

Luckily Mac decided to interject himself into the conversation, and my brain finally clued back into the fact that when people's lips are moving they're generally trying to tell you something. Unless, of course, their lips are moving on top of yours. But, I suppose, they _are_, indeed, telling you something when their lips are on yours, so. Anyway.

"You can wait outside if you want to, Caroline," Mac stated, already pulling on gloves and pulling his camera and various other things out of his box of crime scene tools. Or something.

Well, okay.

"Line," Don murmured, pushing open the door for me and following me out into the hallway.

It's true. I was still angry. I was now angry at him and me and Justin and, well, in general, the world. Because, yes, I was still completely soaked. And, I don't know if you've ever noticed, but most hospitals are fairly cold. That's probably why every time you see patients they're under blankets, I suppose.

He was holding out a very familiar set of keys, and I opened my hand for them without thinking. Instead of asking how he was going to get anywhere, or when he was going to get his car, or why in the world he'd decided driving the truck that I'd accidentally on purpose left behind, like I probably should have, I sat down, crossed my legs and fiddled with my keys.

Don watched me. And then with a sigh and a pinch to the bridge of his nose, there was a softly stated "I'm sorry."

And when I looked up he was gone.

--

The funny thing about your brother potentially being in serious trouble is that you no longer really pay attention to the fact that one of your ex-boyfriends was arrested by your current boyfriend.

Honestly, it was kind of like all of the anger and frustration and stress had built up so much that suddenly I didn't really care about anything. So I didn't talk to Justin when I drove him back to my apartment. I didn't answer any of the phone calls or texts I got. I didn't think about Don or Mac or the fact that Lindsay and Danny were probably not entirely thrilled about me not returning their child to them, although I assumed that had been taken care of. Or, at least, I hope it had.

Like, I really hope it had.

But mostly, since I was so full of nothing, I was just focused on Sheldon Hawkes. He'd walked up while I was waiting, and waited with me. Turns out, he's been dating Jess for a while now.

I really should have seen that coming.

And that made me realize how little time I'd spent with my friends lately. So, basically, in summation, things suck right now. A lot.

And apparently the suck wasn't concentrated to just New York City. Because I called Emily after staring at the wall for several minutes. I'm not sure why I didn't call my parents. Don't ask me how my brain works sometimes. I mean, I would use the excuse that Emily comes first in my phone book, but 'Dad' is definitely before 'Emily.' So, that's out.

"They hired someone else," was the first thing she said to me, and suddenly the fact that my older brother was most likely in some amount of pain in my apartment and I was offering to help him really didn't seem all that important to me.

"Oh, Emmy," I murmured into the phone, finally falling back to stare at the ceiling. As per usual, right?

It would be fantastic if all the answers to my life would just show up there. Since I look at it seventy percent of the time I'm in my apartment and all.

"But I was thinking," I heard her clearing her throat. I knew how much she'd been wanting to work in the Smithsonian. Although, secretly, I still wasn't sure whether or not I really thought she would ever move from Chattanooga, her history considered. That's why what she said next surprised me so much. "Maybe I might move to New York." And when she didn't get an immediate response, she added, "With you."

"Emily, are you, I mean, you've, uh," I was not finding words. Which I think was pretty reasonable for my current state of mind. So instead of saying things about jobs and being around family and being down South and things that would ultimately remind her of the fact that New York really wasn't for everyone and, hey, I thought you _liked_ living by the Tennessee River, I came out with, "What about Jared?"

"He'd be coming with me," she said this as though I'd implied he'd be left behind. I shook my head, despite the fact that she couldn't see me. I'm going to work on that one of these days.

"I'm just," I paused, "Wouldn't that be hard for him? And, besides, you know schools are probably more rough up here."

"Well, his aunt will teach him one day, so," I could just see Emily shrugging with nonchalance at this statement. Thanks for reminding me, little sister. Really, thanks.

Like I needed someone to remind me that I _didn't have a job_. Not that I hadn't been offered. And after several more moments of slightly awkward conversation, I decided as I hung up the phone that I was talking to Mac tomorrow. I mean, he'd made me an offer a little while ago, and, I was thinking, maybe I should take him up on it, current boyfriend with the possibility of being an ex-boyfriend due to my fear and his stupidity be damned.

Then, again, that's a lot easier said than done.

Especially when said boyfriend's standing just behind your door.

_X-posted to livejournal._

_I apologize for how long this took. And how dismal it is. And the lack of plotline, just at the moment. But that's because it's Caroline's thoughts, and she hasn't yet been bothered to learn the details of the Justin case. So. It took so long because I have, indeed, started back to school again. And I'm awful busy. But I love this story, and I'll try my darndest not to let it die._

_But I'm not making any guarantees as to when chapters will actually be posted…_

_**CSINYMinute:**__ Thanks so much. You're wonderful. ;) For now, it seems like Angell might not be here at all…but there's still time for her to surface. Really, thanks tons! :)_

_**browner846: **__Mmyeah, Caroline's in way deep with Flack. ;) I really love his eyes, so…I was getting worried it might be getting a little repetitive! But I'm glad you got your Danny fix, because you can really never have enough Carmine goodness. ;P Thanks for reviewing! :)_

_**iam: **__Hopefully the anger will go away as I settle into my classes, lol. :) Thanks for leaving a review!_

_**raymakay: **__That sure would have been interesting, though, wouldn't it? ;) Thanks so much for reviewing!_

_**SexyScottishDoc: **__Eh, I definitely apologize for the blatant cliffhanger at the end of this chapter…;) But hopefully you like it anyway…Thanks for reviewing and sticking with Caroline! :)_

_Sorry, I'm (Awesome) lacking in inspiration and…word ability?_

_Hopefully it's not too bad. Thanks for reading and thanks in advance for any reviews!_

_-Piper_


	16. Weddings and Investigations

**Disclaimer: I don't own CSI: New York, Skoal, Arrested Development, or Lady Antebellum. I do own Caroline, Justin, Emily, William, Amy, and mom and dad and the children Palmer, Tyler Everett, Haley Oakley, Boone, and Justin's crew guys.**

"My sister wants to move to New York."

As if that wasn't the most random statement I could start a conversation with. I had a feeling I was looking particularly blank, too. Not to mention I was still in the slightly damp clothes I'd been wearing the entire day. And the day before that, for that matter. I'm surprised I didn't get kicked out of the hospital for that. But I guess it's possible that you're there for a matter of life and death and are consequently not particularly worried about you soaking their chairs.

I should really change. I turned around to do so, but Don just leaned up against my door frame.

"Do you want her to?" He asked, like there was nothing else for us to talk about. No other matters that were definitely more important than this. Matters that were for sure more important than this.

But that's something I love about him.

I paused in front of my dresser at the thought. God, I'm in way over my head.

"I don't know," I mumbled, casting my eyes downward. Because if I didn't then I could see him in the mirror, leaning all casually, yet seriously, against the frame with his arms crossed against his chest. And I can't even begin to tell you how much I wanted to feel his arms around me. But something was wrong with the image anyway, like his crossed arms were slightly lopsided and I didn't know why.

That's puzzling. Because I'm pretty much like ninety nine point nine percent sure that Don Flack does _not_ have any form of defect. He's, you know, perfect. Basically.

I turned around to face him again, only vaguely aware of the fact that I didn't get anywhere on the new clothes front. I should really work on that. Not getting distracted so easily. It's a wonder I managed through college. Seriously. If I'd chosen a major that didn't come quite so easily, I probably would have completely flunked out. That, and having friends in the majors that you suck at to help you with your general education requirements is pretty much a vital.

It was a Skoal can, throwing off his stance. By the way. In case you're wondering.

"Justin's trying to stop," I stated, nodding at it. You know, whether he really wants to or not. But we're fairly certain, us Palmer siblings, since our parents don't know due to the fact that, uh, that would be a bad thing, that in order to get a wife you probably shouldn't be dipping. Amy wouldn't marry William until he kicked the habit. And look at them now, two kids and another on the way. And happily married. I probably should have mentioned that first.

Arrested Development anyone?

Anyway.

"Look, Line," he stood up straight now, his right hand idly setting down the can of chewing tobacco on my nightstand. "I'm sorry that I did something to upset you, but I won't apologize for doing my job. For caring about you."

"I know." There were several thousand arguments to continue on with. But, I mean, he said he cared about me. I don't think anyone other than like, you know, my parents and grandparents and such have ever told me that straight up. Besides that, I was tired of arguing. I really, really just wanted things to go back to the way they were before the whole third date fiasco.

Although I'm totally kidding myself if I think it's possible that said fiasco might not have happened.

Damn me and my insecurities.

I sat down on my bed. And stared at the floor. And I'm thinking maybe I should have done this before, the whole staring at the floor thing, instead of the ceiling, because I'm just now realizing that there are at least patterns to follow on the ground. That, and I probably need to get the floors redone before I move out due to the fact that I have a beast of a dog. Who has some lengthy sets of claws.

Seriously. One of the scratches has to be at least five feet long. I can't believe I've never noticed that before.

The floor was a whole new world, man.

But my view of this new world was obscured by Don's face entering my vision. Well, more like his legs, and then his waist, and then his torso, and _then_ his face. But, I mean, you can imagine the color rising on my cheeks by admitting the fact that I was staring at his waist for several moments. You know, before he had fully squatted in front of me.

I should become a more active conversationalist. Have you ever noticed that my thoughts are rarely about the actual conversation I'm having at the time?

No wonder it's so awkward.

Not that this moment is awkward or anything. I mean, it's kind of nice. Just sitting on my bed and staring down into the brightest pair of deep blue eyes I've ever seen in my entire life. Yeah, my brain definitely kind of sort of stole that line from Lady Antebellum. But that's not the point. It was nice, just looking at him looking at me.

And you should _definitely_ try it sometime.

"I don't know if even you can fix me, Donnie," I murmured. I saw the hint of a smile playing on his lips, and suddenly I was more engaged in a conversation than I ever have been in my entire life. Too bad said conversation was a whole three sentences.

"I don't need to. There's nothing to fix."

And, I'll tell you, that's the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me. Ever. And I'm nearly twenty eight. And can I point out that, hey, none of those words were 'love.'

Which is fascinating, right? I'll have to point that out to Haley before she actually writes anything that could get published.

But you're wondering why my thoughts are straying and, I'll admit, that's because Don stood up. Like the eye connection had to be present for me to stay with the conversation. I have such issues. Although, apparently, he doesn't think so.

Considering not only the words, but the fact that he was suddenly in front of my face again, but this time he was much, much closer. As in, hey, let's close that half an inch and totally make out like teenagers for the next half hour. Only, when I was a teenager I don't recall, uh, _twisting_ about on a bed during the making out. Yeah.

And God, he still tastes so good. It was the kind of thing that you didn't really notice until the moment you got more. The memory did not do the actual thing justice. And, truly, it did get better every time. Oh, did it get better.

I mean, the only reason we stopped, really, was because he was sort of pulling away from me, though he obviously wasn't trying too hard, and I suddenly remembered that my brother was in the guest room down the hall. Oh, right.

Embarrassingly, my shirt had risen to the point where my stomach was exposed, and due to the fact that it was slightly damp it was staying there. But, uh, I kind of have to admit that I enjoyed the feeling of his hands on my bare skin. Somehow I'd manage to ignore the fact. Maybe.

I don't know if you've ever noticed, but it's difficult to concentrate on what a person's saying when his hands are tracing patterns on your exposed skin.

"Sorry," he was breathing heavily, like me. It was a steady rhythm. Together in and out. I liked it. "I should've stopped sooner."

"It's fine," I replied, closing my eyes and letting my head drop to where my forehead was on his shoulder. He hadn't gotten quite as far as I had, not that I'd really gotten that far. But, I mean, he'd lost a coat and tie and a few buttons, but that was about it. Hardly fair, considering. Although, he does wear fairly form fitting shirts. In case you were curious.

Anyway.

"Justin," I, well, basically whispered. Because I kind of didn't want to go there. It seemed like someone was always getting between us, whether the person was actually alive or not was a different story, but, yeah, getting in the way none the less.

"It doesn't look good right now, Caroline," Don replied, lowering my shirt and propping himself up slowly so as not to disturb my head, I guess. I mean, it could really hurt if he were to put his shoulder into your head. He's probably done it before. And you can bet he's the one that always comes out on the top. 'Cause they're probably all in jail.

And, you know, he's not.

"He's all we've got." It took me a moment to even understand what he was trying to say to me. Especially considering I really didn't know anything about what was going on aside from the fact that while the investigation was happening they were just going to call it some kind of freak hunting accident, wherein some woman that I've never heard of before, and I know all the people Justin works with, was shot and Justin was awfully bruised. The problem being that said random woman died rather instantly and Justin was the only one around and they were kind of out of the way and has no one talked to the crew yet?

"Mac," I turned myself around so I was facing the same direction he was and found that I was sitting between his legs. "Mac would know that there has to be someone else. There has to be more to it." I sighed, leaning back into his chest. "Has anyone even talked to the boys?"

"The boys?" He asked, curiously, but I could tell the detective was coming out. Which was a fairly amusing thought, so much so that I almost smiled. Almost. But, still, a valiant effort on his part. Not that it was actually an effort.

See, this is the problem with Donnie being so amazing. Suddenly I'm going to become egocentric, thinking that everything is happening for me and because of me and blah blah blah. Which is fairly annoying, so I'm gonna put that on the top of my ever growing list of things-I-should-really-work-on-in-my-life.

"The crew," I started drawing circles on his knee. "Like, camera guys, sound, lighting, back up, that sort of thing."

"They're coming in tomorrow," he answered me. And can I just toss out that I really enjoy the feeling of him talking when he's up against me? And that statement isn't actually as dirty as it sounds. "But, Caroline, I shouldn't even be working this case. If anybody at the prescient knew I was dating you, I'd be off it in an instant. At this point, I'd be lucky if that was all that happened."

"You don't have to-"

"I want to." He turned me slightly to press his lips to mine again. Don't ask me how he did it. I'm still baffled by the fact. But I was totally right about the whole his kissing just gets better thing. Seriously, I've just acquired concrete proof. For myself. I'd like to keep it that way, actually. Just clarifying.

"I'm going to talk to Mac about that job tomorrow." I looked down again. I had kind of planned on not mentioning it to anyone, Don included. But when he's sitting there looking at me and kissing me and stuff, you know, I can't help but want to share my whole life's story and pretty much every thought I've ever thought. Basically.

And it's pretty damn fantastic when he just smiles at you and kisses you again. It doesn't get much better than that. Now it would just be nice if I could, you know, clear my brother completely. And have the whole ordeal over with. I mean, that kind of detracted from the awesomeness of the situation. Which was upsetting in and of itself, because I really, really wanted to enjoy these sorts of things as much as I could to the fullest.

When I was half asleep, I mumbled a, "I love you, Donald Flack." The half asleep bit being proved by the fact that I called him Donald.

He chuckled, though I imagine he probably rolled his eyes, and replied with a, "I love you, too, Caroline." And, uh, I couldn't be sure, but I thought I heard him softly mumbling something about "One day I'm going to marry you."

But, then again, I probably wouldn't be placing any bets on my half asleep hearing.

--

Something really must have put wedding bells into my brain, though, because I had a very in-depth dream about getting married. I mean, it was pretty hardcore. But the problem was that no one ever seemed to mention the groom's name. And I woke up as the doors to the church were opening.

Damn.

I was going to take note to see if I was becoming prophetic or something.

Wouldn't that be fantastic for being a detective? I think so. And hey, if you want evidence as to the fact, just watch television. There are plenty of crime shows based on psychic powers.

I spent about half an hour pondering weddings and whether I'd really heard Don right last night and crime shows and, you know, generally building up a serious case of nerves for talking to Mac today despite the fact that I didn't know whether I'd even be able to or not. Said half hour was during my shower.

Finally, I was changing into something clean. My mother would have been horrified. Hell, if I'd kept with my original career choice _I_ probably would have been mortified. Then, again, that sort of stuff happens, right? I mean, if you're out fighting a war or taking down criminals or what have you you're not really focused on whether or not you have clean clothes.

I imagine. Not that I would know.

I wouldn't have been nearly as scatterbrained if I'd stuck with my original career choice, too.

This is actually pretty much a fact and not just my imagination.

My scatterbrained tendencies had sort of gone into overdrive due to the fact that I realized I really needed to talk to my parents, which just added to the large knot of anxiety in my chest. My brain being in meltdown stage can easily be evidenced by the fact that I barely noticed Don behind me, placing his hands on top of mine as they were currently holding me up on the dresser. Honestly, my position can best be described as glaring at myself in the mirror.

Don looked rather content, though. And, hey, he wasn't wasting anytime in having a go at my neck. But I could only close my eyes for a minute before I turned around to face him, breaking off the wonderful feeling of his lips on my skin. Then, because I'm weird, I put my hands on his hips.

Could I really help the fact that I happened to like my boyfriend's hips a lot?

I can always avoid actually telling people.

"I'll take you to see Mac," he murmured, pulling my hips up against his and draping his arms around my waist. I let my hands slide around to his lower back, turning my head to the side and pushing the side of my face against his chest. I was holding on for dear life pretty much.

I mean, you can't blame me for being kind of worried about the fact that as soon as we left this room and went back to reality that something could come up or the anger could come back. And heaven knows I _really_ can't think straight when I'm angry. Nothing even makes sense.

So, yeah. I'd like to avoid that.

"I need to call my parents," I mumbled, turning my head again to where it was sufficiently buried in his chest. One of his hands left my waist to tangle itself in my hair, and while that was also an enjoyable thing, I couldn't help but lament the loss of the warmth from his hand on my waist.

"Mac'll have taken care of it," he stated with a kiss to the top of my head.

Seriously. I'm going to incredibly, like, beyond words, frustrated if our relationship goes to hell when I open the door. I'm not kidding. This is too perfect.

"They'll want to talk directly to me and Justin," I paused, tilting my head so my chin was on his chest and I was looking up into his wondrous blue eyes. New adjective. What do you think? "Well, actually, I guess it wouldn't hurt to see what all Mac told them first." I bit my lip. "Just let me check on Justin."

"I can give you ten minutes. I'll take Boone out."

It was kind of weird to be reminded that you had a dog so very suddenly.

But that's just the way it goes.

--

"You're leaving me alone to go out with your detective," Justin paused like he couldn't use the word 'boyfriend.' Which isn't true, by the way. He actually enjoyed using the word when Emily and Tyler were going out.

Sometimes I wish he wasn't so overly protective.

"Whatever he is," he eyed me. "And don't try to say he's not something. Because he spent the whole night here."

"I'm going to the crime lab to talk to Mac, not hang out with my _boyfriend_. And, for the record, I _did not_ do anything last night. And you very well know it," I rolled my eyes at him.

It would also be nice if he, you know, actually acted like he was thirty years old every now and then.

"I'm not going to be gone the whole day, anyway, JJ."

"I think I feel my concussion coming back," he groaned, lifting a hand to his forehead. "The combination of you calling me by my initials and you ditching me to go see Mac Taylor and hang out with your boyfriend is just making all the pain stand out so much clearer."

"Good," I replied. "That will teach you to _not wander away from your crew_." His face dropped back to the somber expression that was typically only reserved for dreary and depressing things. Like funerals.

Yeah.

"Liney," he took my hand in his, stopping me from trying to organize things near him so that he could easily reach them without having to move around too much. "They're going to find the evidence that says I didn't do it." He tugged on my hand which forced me to look at him. It was difficult to say whether the hazel or the green eyes won these stare downs. "Because I didn't."

"I know," I whispered, pulling my hand away. "I know."

I could only hope that evidence really did prove that.

_X-posted to livejournal._

_A much longer chapter that is, in my personal opinion, much, much better. It's because I watched episode five oh one last night. So, you know, Eddie and Carmine and Gary freaking Sinise can come back into my brain space which had been entirely occupied by Jonathan Togo lately…_

_In general, I apologize for the awfulness of the last chapter, though. Hopefully you like this one better. I sure do._

_**kaypgirl: **__Ah, sorry…it's just like when everything terrible happens at once…and clearly Caroline's not very good at expressing that sort of thing. Hopefully it's a little clearer...? Thanks for reviewing. :)_

_**iam: **__Ha, yeah, I like that. The whole reason his eyes are there is just to get lost in them. ;) They certainly manage to make Liney focus on something for longer than half a minute. Thanks for reviewing!_

_**CSINYMinute: **__I'm glad you didn't think it was too awful. I think it embodied the title fairly well…;) We'll see where the job offer thing goes…I have a rough idea of what's supposed to happen with that, and it's not quite a long term thing…yet…As far as the rating goes, I don't really plan on uping it. But, you know, I mean, when something happens, you'll know it happens. I'm just not graphic…;) Thanks for the review!_

_**browner846: **__This review made me happy, anyway. :) Hopefully this is enough fluff for you…And, yep, you got all the storyline right. Liney's definitely got a lot to think about these days, right? ;) As to the Mac crush…it's not a really serious thing. It's just old habits die hard..being that she liked him when she was little…Apparently Caroline has a little bit of a thing for older men…ahem. Anyway. Thanks for not giving up! ;) And thanks for the review! :D_

_Thanks for reading, y'all._

_-Piper_


	17. Mysteries

**Disclaimer: I don't own CSI: New York, or Paul McCartney. I do own Caroline and Justin Palmer, Troy, Justin's crew, Mark/Jay, the Bryants, and the Hennings.**

My jacket was stiff. And uncomfortable. This was probably due to the fact that it's been in my closet for who knows how long. And, you know, was it just me, or was it unbearably hot it here? It's probably just me. Christ, I'm going to start having hot flashes and I'm not even thirty yet.

This is not a good way to start a day.

Not that I'm actually starting a day. It's actually the afternoon. And I'm sitting across from Mac Taylor in his insanely bright office. I don't think they were thinking about the effects the sunlight would have on this place when they put in glass _walls_. Personally, despite the light, I mean, they kind of freak me out, because any number of things could happen.

You know, like crazy mob druggies breaking into the lab could totally break some serious amount of glass. Someone could easily crack one by hitting to hard. Someone might just really suck at aiming a gun down in ballistics and bam. There goes a wall. Sorry.

I think you can understand my apprehension.

Turns out, and I don't know how this is possible, what with the _insane_ sunlight and all, I fell asleep when I got here. I mean, this can't entirely be my fault. I'll blame the fact that Mac was _busy_, which might deserve some suggestive eyebrow raises, and Don. Because, well, I can. I mean, I totally would have slept a lot longer if I didn't want to be able to stare at him sleeping this morning. And I don't think you can blame me for that.

Neither beginning of my day has been particularly great. I mean, the actual beginning consisted of me freaking out, but at least I had Don with me there. This beginning, well, my coat is really constricting.

I'm staring blankly down at a case file. And the only thing I can even register about it is the fact that the guy was a freaking millionaire. And he was sixty-four. I think that particular fact only registered due to the fact that suddenly my brain was looping the voice of Paul McCartney singing about being sixty-four. Except, you know, nobody died in that song.

Or, at least, I don't think anybody did. But I might be bad at interpreting song lyrics.

I glanced up to see Mac watching me. Like he was studying me. And even if I am madly in love with Don Flack, old habits die hard, and I had to try very, very hard to suppress a shudder. I'm not entirely convinced that it worked. I glanced back and forth for a moment, trying to will the hotness in my face to disappear before I actually lifted my head.

"I'm confused," I mumbled. Mac smiled.

"You like working with finances, right?" I shrugged. I mean, finances were just a bunch of math, I guess. I don't know. I'm pathetic and my dad still keeps up with most of my life, because he is made of pure awesome at finances. Obviously. He only owns like, seven stores. "Until we can get you through training, you do what you do best. After that, maybe you can head down to ballistics."

Okay. My brain is throwing up a mental block. Mathematics is totally groovy, don't get me wrong, I just. I don't know. I can't believe I just used the word groovy. Like I was a child of the sixties or something. Definitely an eighties kid. Not that this is important. I shouldn't have let myself fall asleep. Because I'm so lost right now.

But I can find a point of interest, right? I mean, there's got to be something I can say. Anything at all.

Luckily, Adam spared me the difficulty.

"Sorry, Mac, but we got a hit on the, uh," he paused, glancing at me. I was trying to blink the sunlight out of my eyes. Adam Ross must be an angel. But I did know exactly what he was talking about. I mean, it's kind of hard to forget that your brother's a suspect in a murder investigation.

"What is it?" I asked, standing up as Adam handed the file to Mac. Mac scanned the page and then looked back at me.

"Someone on Justin's crew's in the system," Mac started.

"Which means he, whoever, committed a crime?" I asked, before realizing that by taking this job, which I apparently have, that Mac's my boss and you probably shouldn't interrupt your boss. Damn. I suck at life.

"Not just that," Adam replied, glancing between me and Mac, who had begun pulling on his coat. "But he's not who he says he is."

Okay. I'm cool with not knowing particulars of delicate matters like this, but Jesus, these two could make a fortune off of mystery novels or movies or something. I mean, I don't think I've ever been more curious about something in my life. Ever.

"Adam can get you started, Caroline," Mac stated, heading out his door and toward the elevator. Well, at least I know that Mac has faith in my abilities. I mean, have I ever received less instruction about anything in my life?

Well, yes. But not on something as important as my job. I mean, minimal instruction on teaching children, eh, who cares, you can make it up as you go. Catching criminals, on the other hand...

Adam set me down at a computer and pulled up everything they had on my millionaire. And he gave me a huge box full of other assorted records. And then I got to do math. Which, let's be honest, there's not much I could be better at on my first day.

And just like that, I had a job.

--

I was on my way home.

This is not an entirely false statement. It's just not entirely the truth. Actually, I was in off in search of a Mr. Bryant. Who is filthy rich. Because, apparently, millionaires like to have billionaire friends. I guess they feel like this puts them in the 'in' crowd. And, well, if your billionaire buddy doesn't mind handing out free money, I guess that's a pretty decent friendship. For all the wrong reasons.

And I know what you're thinking, no billionaire would give a millionaire money for nothing. I concur, friends. None. They wouldn't just give money to anyone. Unless it was to their children, which is why I also wouldn't mind seeing if there's a younger Mr. Bryant or a younger Mr. Henning (my millionaire). Because I'm thinking, and I'm fairly certain, that this case is pretty much stuck on money.

For real.

Though, I guess I can relate to them, as dad has a small fortune himself. That'll be useful in interrogating them, right?

Even though I'm not supposed to. Which is why I'm "on my way home." I was given further instructions from Mac once he found me asleep, yes, again, at the computer. It's not my fault that running check numbers and card numbers and such is incredibly boring after the first hour or so. I am not allowed "in the field."

But I'm not really going into the field, am I? I'm just a person wanting to talk to another person about his riches. This is not strange. And you know how I know this isn't strange? Plenty of people do it to my dad. So, yeah.

I just had to take a detour to the prescient, because, well, Don drove me here and, yeah, "I'm going home." But Mac drove me over here because apparently Justin's here. And Justin doesn't have a car just at the moment, which I think leaves us to deduce that he drove mine. Because that's what he does. And if I wanted to call him out on it, he'd just say it's because he's my older brother.

And he would place a huge emphasis on the older part. You know, like _older_ brothers do. Or just older siblings in general, I suppose. I mean, I've only ever had older brothers, so I don't really know how older sisters act.

"Liney?" It took me more than a few glances in several different directions before I found the source of the question. I mean, obviously I knew Justin's crew would be in town, but for reason entirely unbeknownst to me, I really wasn't expecting to see any of them.

"Hey, Troy," I smiled at him. I had been trying to spy Don or Justin to end my spasmodic thoughts on siblings, but I suppose Troy served the purpose. And, hey, despite the fact that he has a little bit of a beer gut, he's still a fairly attractive male.

Not that I care.

A lot.

I mean. Don Flack.

"Looking for Justin?" He sent me an award winning smile. Yeah. Okay. Channeling images of Don, so I can ignore the fact that, apparently, several of the guys that I've yet to meet on Justin's crew were pretty damn attractive.

This is an assumption, of course, as I don't know for a fact that they're all on Justin's crew. I'm just assuming because they all seem to be particularly interested in the fact that Troy's talking to me about Justin. So.

I'm thinking this is an okay assumption to make.

"Um." I can't really say 'I have no agenda that I wish to share with you.' And not just because that's an incredibly polite way to say 'screw off.' Which I also can't say. "Yes." He arched a brow at me, but shrugged and nodded toward the blind-covered interrogation room down the hallway.

"He's been in there for awhile." I could hear the nervousness in his voice. Which explains why he's not sitting down. Must have been pacing. Which I'll commend him for, because that's no easy task when you're in the main lobby area of a New York City prescient. Boy's got skill.

"Do you, um, know who's in there with him?" I asked, looking toward the room and away from the eyes of Troy and his assorted co-workers. Don Flack, Caroline, Don Flack.

"A pair of detectives." He must have sensed my slight irritation at his lack of information, or maybe he just noticed the sudden jerking of my hand from where it had been twisting a loose strand of fabric on the bottom of my jacket, because he promptly added, "Messer and something that started with an F."

"Flack." One of the other's supplied. I think I glared at him, because he looked away pretty quickly, to where I wasn't even entirely sure it was him that had said something in the first place, or if I was just pulling that out of thin air.

"Do you know them?" Troy was eying me, his nerves going away now that he had a mystery on his hands. I wasn't paying attention to him.

I was kind of cursing the fact that of course they would both be _occupied_ when I wanted a car. Not that my millionaire was high on my list of priorities at this exact moment, but, honestly, that case was the only thing I could actually _do_ something about. But the fact that a Messer was in on the interrogation made me feel a little better. And I'm assuming that it's Lindsay, 'cause Danny's on my case, and I'm pretty sure he was doing something scientific when I left.

Something that I can be aware of due to the fact that there are _walls_ made of _glass_.

But anyway. I guess I'm walking. Since pacing's about the only thing I'd be doing anyway. And I just do not have the skill that Troy has.

"Palmer?" Troy was clearly bewildered by me, though he was attempting not to show it.

"Sorry, I have to go see a billionaire."

I didn't realize until I was halfway down the street how strange that must sound. That, and the fact that Troy was probably next. And I was sincerely hoping that he didn't say anything about me and a billionaire to anyone that had any inkling about my new job.

Because I'd really like to not get fired on the first day.

--

So, chatting with billionaires is not really on my list of favorite things to do. He was very distracted the entire time, and I couldn't very well pose any worthwhile questions since I don't have a badge. But I mentioned something about Henning, and he freaked a little and now I'm definitely going with Mr. Bryant being involved in this somehow.

I mean, somehow other than giving my millionaire free money. I mean, somehow like murder.

I feel like there should be some sort of dramatic music after that.

"I felt like your boyfriend was going to shoot me at any second," Justin muttered. We were walking back to my apartment, having had to park my truck a good block or so away, due to the fact that the building only has so many parking spots and there's someone in mine. Today's not a great day. I would complain to the super about the parking, but I just don't have space in my brain to worry about that.

There are more important things on my mind.

"He wasn't going to shoot you," I shook my head, crossing my arms over my chest.

"You don't know that," he responded, "You've only been dating him for what, two months?"

So, maybe my brain made room to state the exact number of months, dates, weeks, and days. But I guess he had the general gist of things, right? I really just wanted to know...

"You didn't say anything about, well, me, did you?" I know he said he wanted to be on this case, but I was still pretty worried about what could happen to Don. I mean, I don't want to be the reason he loses his job or anything. I imagine that's probably not the best way to keep a good relationship going.

Justin made a face at me.

"Contrary to popular belief, everything isn't always about you," he muttered.

"You know what I meant," I replied, adding in a nice glare for effect. I would've smacked him upside the head, but considering he was just in the hospital with a concussion, it didn't seem like the best idea.

"No, I didn't mention you. Flack mentioned it before we got in. Now you understand why I was in fear of my life."

"You're an idiot."

"Thanks, Liney," he swerved around a couple walking in the opposite direction.

"No, really, you are," I continued. I hadn't actually meant it in the first place, but after I thought about it for a second, I realized he kind of was. "Why couldn't you just tell them whatever it is you won't tell anyone?"

"It's not my secret to share, Liney," he shook his head. He'd been in interrogation for so long because they didn't have anything on anyone else. He was basically their only real suspect, until Mac showed up with his case file and Adam's information or whatever. "You know how gossip can ruin people. It's happened enough times."

"It's different when it's the difference between prison and freedom," I rolled my eyes at him.

"Caroline," Justin laughed. "You're blowing things way out of proportion. They've got Mark or Jay or whatever the hell his name is in holding and even if they don't know all the sketchy details, I'm pretty sure they've got the right guy," he paused, "And so are they."

"You're lucky that you're my older brother and I like you, otherwise you'd be in the midst of another concussion."

I'm tired now. And, to be perfectly whinny, yes, I just want to spend my evening making out with Don. I would say just talking, but I'm kind of against that, because we'd probably talk about this and I don't want to talk about this. So. Yeah.

"You only like me? I thought I meant more to you than that," he took his hands out of his pockets to feign hurt. And as far as I got in response was "Justin," before I was pushing him down and he was pulling me down with him and we were both on the ground. And while my heart was going crazy, and so was Justin's, trust me, I landed on him, I was feeling more than a little exasperated.

Why am I always around when guns are being fired?

_X-posted to livejournal._

_So…I've had this for awhile, actually, but I don't know that I'm satisfied with it, which is why I've been holding off…it kind of has a bit to do with the fact that I think I've lost Liney's voice to an Austen styled character at the moment (that's what happens when you read P&P, again). But I hope you enjoyed it a bit, if you made it this far. _

_**CSINYMinute: **__It looks like we may have to wait for this case to clear up…Hopefully they'll get back to some fluffy moments to hold you over…;) Thanks for reviewing!_

_**SexyScottishDoc: **__It makes me really happy to know that you can relate to Caroline. Since she's really just a random product of my mind. :) And the 'freaking' in the midst of Gary's name…just one of those random things my sister and I always say. ;) I'm mean, he's a pretty epic person…Anyway, thanks for the review, I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint too much._

_**iamagaraeagas: **__His eyes are quite gorgeous. Although there are other qualities that are worthwhile, too. ;) Thanks for reviewing! :)_

_**browner864: **__I should apologize for the lateness of the chapter…I think Flack could get any girl's attention, whether she was previously engaged or not…;) Thanks for the review! :D_

_And if you're still here, thanks for sticking with me! And thanks to everyone who has this story on a favorite's list or an alert list. :)_

_-Piper_


	18. The Intended Target

**I don't own CSI: New York. I do own Caroline, Emily, and Justin Palmer and family, Haley Oakley, Jen and Jess Hennessey, Jay Cullingham, and Boone.**

"God, what kind of shampoo are you using?" Justin sputtered from underneath me, "Your hair tastes disgusting."

"Shampoo's not supposed to make you hair taste good, Justin." Or maybe it is, I really wouldn't know. I don't know much about shampoo, I just look for something that smells good. Anyway. Not important at this exact moment.

I rolled my eyes, before attempting to stand up. Maybe not the best idea, as I pushed against his shoulder, which he responded to with a groan and a few selective words which I won't repeat. We're supposed to be good at that by now, what with two nephews and a niece who're all under the age of ten. Guess we need to work on it, still.

But, whatever. I rolled off of him instead of pulling myself all the way up, shaking hair out of my face as I dug in my pocket for my phone and, once successful, flipping it open. And there I was faced with a small dilemma and also an attempted covert picture of Don Flack, but that's irrelevant. What is relevant, though, is that I clearly know too many people in the New York Police Department.

Justin had propped himself against a wall, his hand running through his hair and then returning to the shoulder I'd accidentally pushed against.

"You okay, Liney?" He asked, after a minute or two of starring at me. Not that I was watching him, I was too busy flipping through my phone book with an internal debate, but I _did_ feel his eyes on me. Which with anyone else would freak me out. And, come to think of it, we're on a street in freaking New York City and there aren't any people freaking me out by starring at me. I'm not wrong in thinking that's weird, am I?

I don't understand what's wrong with this place.

How have I survived for the last ten years?

"Yeah," I held down a number on my keypad. I figure I'll be calling a couple of people, anyway. "It's more a matter if you're alright." I glanced at him, and with a wave of my hand added "sorry" as an afterthought.

"It's cool," his hand returned to his head. "Just a little dizzy."

"Sorry," I mumbled again, sliding myself next to him, as I got an answer on the other end of my line. "Hey, Donnie..."

--

Can I just say this was entirely unexpected? Not unwelcome, but not expected, either. I mean, I guess I don't mind the whole not being able to breathe thing when the source of my suffocation is New York's finest. There are less agreeable ways, you'll agree with me.

"Don," I mumbled, although I don't think that's what it came out as. It was probably just a random noise. It wasn't like I hadn't made my fair share of weird, embarrassing noises around Don before. He pulled back, but didn't let go.

Holy crap.

I kind of wanted to scream, his eyes were so intense. And gorgeous. And they were entirely focused on me. If I hadn't already had my insecurity breakdown, it probably would've happened right then. As it was, I was torn between wanting to look away and never wanting to look anywhere else.

I mean, who honestly wouldn't be satisfied with staring at him forever?

If you could live forever, I mean. I guess. I don't know what I'm talking about anymore.

"Line, are you sure you're okay?" He made my decision pretty easy for me, his hands just barely running through my hair on both sides of my face. If it weren't for the crazy amount of butterflies making my heart jump up into my throat, I probably would have thought about how insanely difficult it would've been to run a hand through my hair. What with the rolling around on the ground and having bits and pieces being in Justin's mouth. Which I really didn't want to think about to be honest.

But it was fairly difficult to concentrate on such when the 'hello, I'm impossible to ignore' blue eyes of my boyfriend were boring into mine.

"Yeah, yeah," I swallowed. Working on getting my organs back in their proper place, just give me a second. "I'm fine. I am. I promise." I started to pull away, but his hand caught mine. "I'm just going to sit with Justin."

"Caroline." There we go with the one word sentence consisting of my name again. Why does that happen to frequently?

This one was different though. It sounded pleading. That wasn't different, that had happened before. You know, times like when Emily really wanted to steal my boots for something or other or Haley really wanted me to try something on at the store no matter how much I protested and of course I'd always end up doing it in the end. But this one also had a certain amount of relief and desire.

Unless I was very much mistaken.

Probably wouldn't be the first time.

Desire at this exact moment was slightly problematic though. I mean, despite the fact that there really wasn't much in the way of evidence or anything, so the crime scene was awfully small. Just a casing in the road and bullet somewhere in the vicinity of where Justin and I went down. Unless our mystery man was an awful shot, I mean. Which is possible considering neither of us got hit by a bullet.

But there were a couple uniforms and an ambulance, who attacked Justin when they arrived (seriously, they're ruthless) before realizing no one was actually seriously hurt or anything, and Mac and Lindsay.

I really don't know much about how news travels within the police department, but I really wasn't looking forward to someone starting rumors about the lead detective on the 'Palmer case' sleeping with the suspect/victim's sister or something of that sort due to the fact that we engaged in a display of public affection when we let our desires get the best of us. People's minds are funny like that, skipping from a look to sex in half a second.

I mean, just because I glance at someone I'm not related to that automatically means we're sleeping together, right?

At least that's what several college girls I know seem to think. Or girls Haley and Jess and Jen know, rather.

"I'm going to sit with Justin. I'll be there when you're done," I stated, finally. He let go of my hand. I almost believed I could feel his confusion and crazy combination of warring emotions. But then I thought maybe that was just me. Emphasizing or sympathizing or something. Have I mentioned English isn't my best subject?

"So we're thinking it's an accomplice of Jay Cullingham?" Lindsay was posing the idea as I walked up to Justin at the bumper of the ambulance. She and Mac were standing close by, just off the sidewalk I was laying on forty five minutes ago.

"If Justin Palmer was the target," Mac allowed.

"Unless you think we got the wrong guy," Lindsay followed up, noting the slightly far off look in Mac's eye. He was thinking. And neither of them really noticed that I was standing awfully close to them. And Don was questioning what few witnesses there were. I can't help that I'm curious.

"No," he asserted, refocusing his attention on her. "All the evidence led straight to Cullingham. But maybe we're thinking of the wrong Palmer. Caroline," he turned to me suddenly. I flushed. Knee-jerk reaction in that Mac was paying attention to me, but mainly I was surprised and rather embarrassed at being caught. I really didn't think he knew I was standing there. I should really work on my skills. "Would anyone have any reason to come after you?"

"I, ah, no," I fumbled for words. No. Why the hell would anyone be after me? He didn't really just suggest that _I'm_ the reason we got shot at. Definitely not. I haven't done anything. "I don't think so."

Unless Don has a crazy ex-girlfriend.

Actually, I think that thought might deserve some attention.

"Justin might not have been the intended target. It's possible that you were."

--

"You haven't been dating any crazies before me, have you?" I hissed, when Don finally got back around to me. Not that that was really a long time. It just felt like a long time.

"What?" He was leaning down over me. I sat on the corner of Mac's bumper, Justin in one of the back seats.

"Mac thinks that it's possible that Justin wasn't who they were shooting at." Don gave me a light smile, turning to sit down next to me. I failed to see what in that statement constitutes a smile. Even though I can't really complain, because Don smiling is like, I don't know, owning your very first puppy.

Which reminds me.

"I have to get Boone." I stood up. Like I was going somewhere. Because it'd be perfectly natural for me to just wander off without talking to Mac or Lindsay and completely ignoring my brother. Yeah. Right. It could happen.

"I'll get her, Line," Don stood up, too, facing me. "You probably shouldn't stay there unless you'd like to have uniforms outside."

"Just because someone was trying to shoot me or my brother doesn't mean they know where I live." Don gave me a 'really? Are you looking at how close we are to your apartment building?' look. Admittedly, we were rather close. But that still didn't mean they knew.

"Don't worry about it," he leaned in toward me, "It's just something we have to take into consideration. You being the target," he clarified. Indeed. It's getting hard to breathe, again. "For the record, no, I haven't been dating any crazies."

"What about psycho stalkers?" I mumbled, my eyes half closed. I'm not entirely sure I even knew what I was saying. He chuckled, leaning back again. If I weren't so entirely in love with him, I probably would have hit him. Too much of a tease.

"If they're good at what they're doing, I'd have no idea," he simpered.

"Flack, anything?" Mac asked, suddenly. Seriously. Out of nowhere. I, once again, didn't have any idea that he was aware of where I was. Not that he was talking to me. Although, for some reason I did feel slightly justified in being in the midst of Don's business.

Which sounds inappropriate on several levels and also doesn't make any sense.

But such is my brain.

"Same as always. No one saw anything. A handful may or may not have actually heard a gunshot. And of course there was no one who noticed either of the Palmers."

Damn, Detective Flack was sexy.

Yeah. He's a slightly different person than Don. I won't bother attempting to explain. But, I mean, either way. Sexy.

It is so wrong that I'm turned on right now.

_So wrong._

Apparently, Mac made some motion to lead Don away from me, and I only heard something about him only being able to ignore something for so long. My head hurt. It had been a long day. So much so, that upon the realization that my head hurt in my mind I started singing that song in Spanish about my head hurting. If you know what I'm talking about. You probably don't.

But it was pretty much the only thing I learned from Spanish class.

"You really can't think of anyone that might be after you? Or both of you?" Lindsay asked, hands in her pockets and she leaned against Mac's black Avalanche. Which is really nice, can I say? I think when the F250 wears out, I might know exactly what kind of car I'm getting.

Maybe. I mean, if I'm going to be a CSI anyway...

"Well, I guess there are always people that want some of dad's money," I started, leaning up next to her and copying her pose.

"No one's ever done anything life threatening before, we'll put it that way," Justin had jumped out of the back seat, and was now leaning against the now closed door he'd been half hanging out of before. I guess he just wanted to be in on the conversation.

"How's your head?" I asked, looking out towards where Mac and, yeah, I can't help it, I have to say Flack because it rhymes with Mac. When you talk about the two of them in the same sentence, it's necessary. I don't know.

Don was looking a little bit like an annoyed kid getting berated for something he fully intended to keep doing anyway.

I wish I knew what they were talking about.

"Its seen better days," Justin replied. "Maybe comparable to Luke tripping me down the stairs." I couldn't help the small laugh before I caught myself. It wasn't funny, Justin's penchant for injury, but the story was rather amusing. If he hadn't been pretending to really get into the Wii...

"Mac can set you up in a hotel, or we can just get some uniforms," Lindsay stated from my other side. I felt like we were in some sort of movie, lined up for the shot. I was, clearly, the main character in this, because not only was I in the center, but I was the only one with my arms crossed. You know, one of these is not like the other type of thing.

Yeah, feeling a little bit egotistical at the moment. I can rock the ego, I think.

"I don't know, Linds." I didn't. I really had no idea what I was doing. This has never happened to me before. Surprise, surprise.

I was coming to realize that I lived an incredibly sheltered life.

"I don't think we were properly introduced," Justin turned slightly, so he was looking over my head at Lindsay. "Justin Palmer. Unfortunately, I'm her older brother." He pointed at me before leaving his hand in a position to shake hers.

He was totally doing this to flirt with her.

"Lindsay Messer," she gave a little smirk. I brought a hand to my head, discreetly showing Justin that he was oblivious in life by pointing at my ring finger.

"Do you want a proper introduction with Don, too?" I asked, teasingly. I can't help it. It's always fun to have the upper hand on your older siblings.

"Not really, no. I think I'm good," Justin replied, sinking back into his original position. Lindsay followed. I turned around, noticing both Mac and Flack's, yes, necessary, eyes on me. Great, they were talking about me. I kicked against the side runner on the Avalanche.

"I haven't, however, forgiven you for that ruthless beating to my shoulder," Justin stated. And I was going to shrug it off, but he had me in a headlock before I even knew what was going on. Such was the way of brothers. Damn, I was way off my game. Need to find tune my skills, once again.

"That's just because you can't get anything into that thick head of yours," I replied, trying to find the weak point in his grip, as his free hand, naturally, made a mess of my hair.

"Maybe I could if I didn't have a concussion," he finally let me go. I noticed a slightly awkward looking Lindsay Messer making herself look small.

"Not my fault," I groaned, trying to flatten my hair. Now it really did look like I'd been the victim of a drive-by. I imagine.

I guess I don't really know what they look like.

Except the part where I kind of was one.

Yeah.

"Have you talked to your parents?" Lindsay suddenly asked. Well, that came out of left field. Thanks for that. I'll admit it, unmentionable words were running through my head. I shook my head, jumping slightly as Don's hand found my hip. I hadn't noticed they were back, but Mac was on his phone.

Don made a face when I looked at him. Like I said, a little kid being berated for something he clearly intended to keep doing. Except I still don't know what that was.

"Caroline, Justin," Mac stated, hanging up the phone, "Your parents just landed in La Guardia."

This wouldn't have fazed me in the least, except Justin seemed to suddenly realize something.

"Oh, yeah," he remarked, looking at me. I felt like I was missing something rather obvious with the 'are you stupid?' look that it was. "Liney, everyone was coming anyway."

He was prodding me. Luckily, upon the realization, I managed to think clearly enough to cover my open mouth with my hand. Otherwise I probably would've looked a lot stupider in that moment than I already did.

Because, the thing was, there was way too much going on around me. I was in the midst of multiple New York Crime Lab cases, but it gets better.

Oh, yeah.

I'm graduating tomorrow.

_X-posted to livejournal, of course._

_Ugh, it's almost back to school for me. :( I don't really have much to comment on this chapter. It just kind of is. Y'know? I mean, Mac just had to go and jump the gun on things…ahem._

_**CSINYMinute**__: Yeah, I know what you mean. School's just so time consuming. Or, if not time consuming, exhausting. Hopefully I won't leave it quite that long again, though. And hopefully this chapter was worth waiting for. ;) Thanks!_

_**MissCrys: **__Thanks for reviewing! I'm glad you like it. :)_

_**xSamiliciousx: **__I'm glad you're enjoying it. Thanks for leaving a review! :)_

_**SexyScottishDoc:**__ Yeah, it just feels right to say Gary freakin' Sinise. ;) It makes me happy to know that you can relate to Caroline so well, and that you like her story! :) Sorry about the cliffhangers…but thanks for reviewing! :)_

_**iamagaraeagas: **__Haha, yeah, I think everyone would enjoy an evening with Don Flack, making out or not…;) I definitely haven't forgotten about these two, I get random little snippets of their story all the time. The problem is, it's always a part that's way in the future! Anyway, I'm glad you got the alert eventually, thanks for reading and reviewing! :)_

_**ninjagurl512:**__ Thanks, I'm glad you like her! And thanks so much for reading and reviewing the story! :)_

_And again, thanks everyone who reads! And all the favorites and alerts lists…:)_

_I hope you like it!_

_-Piper_


	19. Not So Safe From Embarrassment

**Disclaimer: I don't own CSI: New York. I do own Caroline Palmer and family, Jen Hennessey, Haley Oakley, and Boone.**

"Seriously, you just forgot?"

"Oh, right. I apologize for not remembering graduation when my brother's been a suspect in a murder investigation, I've been shot at, I'm working on my own investigation, and my boyfriend could get fired for working my brother's case," I rolled my eyes as I fumbled around my room with my phone to my ear. "Clearly graduation takes precedence."

"Clearly investigative work makes you grumpy," Jen stated on the other end. I could almost hear her grin at her own statement. Like it's funny that I'm working the crime scene. Okay, maybe it kind of is. "Are you sure you didn't see him?"

"Sorry, no," I sat down on my bed, tired of searching for things with one hand. Boone had been watching me, her head resting on the end of the bed frame and tilting this way and that with my own movements. But as soon as I sat down her snout came at my free hand. "Goofy dog," I muttered as I started to pet her.

"Thanks, anyway, I guess," Jen replied. She'd been hoping I'd seen our mystery shooter so that she could sketch him. She was hoping to move soon, I knew, and she needed more money for that and currently being an artist for NYPD was her only source of income. Apparently business wasn't booming.

Not that that's a bad thing. I mean, less crime and all that, right?

"I can spot you a couple hundred, Jenny," I stated, turning my attention towards my doorway at hearing the click of a key in the main door. A normal person would probably be freaked out when they didn't live with anyone and after they'd just been shot at. But I'm not a normal person.

Obviously.

I mean, I think we all know that by now.

"Liney," she whined back at me, like I was making her make some extremely difficult decision. I didn't think it was particularly difficult. I mean, free money for something you want? I suppose I'm slightly naive in that way, never having had to worry about money. Apparently most people are rather touchy about the subject. Who knew? Jen made an awkward grunting sound, like she was wrestling with a wild bear or something. Which just makes things all the more ridiculous.

I mean, wild bears in New York City?

Pah.

I made a noise akin to a snort, and then blushed immediately when I glanced up from the shoes of the person in my doorway to see Don quirking an eyebrow at me.

"You're incredibly infuriating, you know that?" Jen mumbled before continuing on at a normal level. "My last audition for the orchestra's in like two weeks. I'll be okay where I am until then."

"Jen," I started, putting a hand over my eyes. People were just so difficult these days. Or maybe it was just that my life was getting way too complicated way too quickly. Yeah, that was probably it.

See? I told you I could be an egotist.

"Caroline." Jen replied, effectively cutting off my train of thought. Not that this is a particularly difficult task. "Go see your parents and then spend the evening making out with everyone's favorite detective. And I'll see you tomorrow at graduation. Anyway, I'm sure you'd rather be talking to him than me."

"Yeah. 'Cause statements like that make you sound like a douche." I replied, making a face. Don laughed. Naturally, I kind of ignored whatever Jen was saying on the other end of the phone. Because, Don Flack laughing is a sound I could definitely spend the rest of my life listening to.

And I don't know what that means for me.

I mean, did my thoughts just skip to marriage in less than, you know, like, half a second?

"Boy's there, isn't he?" Jen asked, laughingly in my ear. And I almost let it slip that I had been thinking about marriage before I realized that I was kind of frustrated with her. And that the object of my thoughts of matrimony was in the room beside me.

Can you imagine how awkward _that_ would have been?

Because I'm finding it difficult and I've been in a lot of awkward situations. A lot.

"See? Douche. What boy are _you_ learning that from?"

"Did you just suggest that Detective Sexy is a douche?"

"I'm definitely hanging up on you now," I replied, because I was really trying to ignore the fact that she'd called my boyfriend sexy _and_ a douche. Because the former was a little awkward at the moment and the latter was something I'd probably address a little too harshly. What with this weird emotional roller coaster and all that I, apparently, had a front row seat in.

Seriously. It was ridiculous. Murder, getting a job, being frustrated at said job, being completely in love but still being totally unsure, and the feeling of his hand on my slightly exposed skin makes it impossible to even think about anything.

Which would be why it didn't take longer than a few seconds for my phone to, you know, basically shut itself of its own accord, or, at least, that's what I'd be willing to bet I'd be telling Jen next time I saw her.

I don't thinking making out for an extended period of time has ever made simultaneously any more and any less sense.

---

"Were you having sex?"

"No! Mom!" I felt the blush staining my cheeks. Why does everyone think I should be having sex? Don was giving the tiniest hint of a smirk as he fixed his shirt.

Admittedly, that was way more distracting than it should have been. Especially because it had me suddenly realizing that I hadn't ever actually seen him shirtless. Which you'd think I would, having been dating for three months and him not exactly being the most modest person on the planet.

Not that I'm complaining. I'm sure there are a lot of girls who'd kill just to be pressed up against said chest. I probably would. Not that I'm going to tell anyone that.

"You sounded flustered," she laughed, "Besides you're very nearly twenty eight, Caroline, I expect it of you."

"Well, maybe I would have it you hadn't been so persistent in calling me," I grunted in response.

Okay. False statement. But I _would_ have still been enjoying the wondrous taste of Don Flack had my phone not kept vibrating sporadically. I would've just turned it off, but seeing that my mother was calling me...well, I'd rather dash her hopes sooner rather than later. I mean, it's harder to convince her the longer I wait. Which I know from experience, considering it took me a month to convince her I was still a virgin in my senior year of high school. Just because William was already married and Justin certainly had given himself to someone...

I mean, you see the flaw with that logic, right?

"You shouldn't lie to your mother, Liney," she laughed again.

"Is there a reason why you're calling me?" I asked, and then promptly interrupted with the follow-up of "Especially when I'm going to see you in an hour or so?"

"Are you?" She sounded surprised. I mean, didn't they all come to town for _my_ graduation?

"I thought so," I mumbled.

"I figured you'd be staying with that boy." She made it sound like he was a fifteen year old who sold drugs behind the cafeteria and had been to juvie six times in the past three years. And she found it funny that I, sweet little thirteen year old Caroline, was running off with a boy like that. Call me crazy, but I though mothers were supposed to be angry in that hypothetical situation.

I pride myself on knowing my family's oddities, but I will never understand my mother. How she can change her tone of voice so quickly. It's mind boggling.

"Fine. I'll see you tomorrow, then," I mumbled, grabbing for Boone's leash.

"That's no fun, kiddo," she replied, dejected.

"I'm hanging up the phone," and then I proceeded to be the dorkiest person in the world. No, really. I took my sweet time hanging up, all the while shouting to my mother how the moment was getting closer.

Yes. I'm seven years old.

"Why, exactly, are you hanging up on everyone?" Don asked, having made a trip out of my apartment with my luggage. I shook my head, biting my lip in an attempt to repress a smile.

If he'd just seen me acting like that, he was certainly avoiding talking about it. I could appreciate that. It was very sexy. And he was looking incredibly...delightful? I'm bad with adjectives. Hence the overuse of gorgeous. But, really, if he didn't look it all the time I wouldn't have to use it so much.

As it were, I very much wanted to let my hands explore.

That's right. Keep the inappropriate jokes down to a minimum, please.

"They all seem to think that you and I are crossing a line," I'd pulled myself flush against him. I don't think I knew what I was doing. And I can't even blame it on alcohol.

Luckily for me, Don Flack is the definition of chivalry.

"Line," he whispered, his eyes closed as his hands grasped each other behind my back so that he could keep them off any of the rest of me.

And I don't want to sound any more egotistical than I already do, but he was showing some pretty intense self restraint. Like, boys I just made out with in a school building in my ten years living in this city had probably done more.

The difference being, of course, that I was not at all inclined to force myself into stopping this, while with everyone else we'd end in like ten minutes tops. I'll be honest, I'd thought about it before hand, and made sure I'd have to stop in order to go to class. Yes. I'm a coward. But I'm proud of my foresight. Straight.

But that wasn't helping matters just now. Why, oh why, was he so amazing to me? I was beginning to think maybe I wouldn't regret it afterward. I was bound to enjoy it, right? But there was that tiny little shred of me holding on to my promise to myself that made me frown every time those thoughts went through my head.

Hence the frown I was wearing currently.

"Oh," I rushed to pull myself away, a string of colorful words finding their way out. "Bad idea. Right. My bad." At this point I think I was talking just to talk. And I knew, without a doubt, that I was blushing with a ferocity that would put the sun to shame. "Sorry. I'm sorry."

"Relax, Liney," he laughed at me, before heading to my bathroom. I buried my face into the bed as I heard the water start, and I shivered like I was the one in freezing water at that moment.

Pretty sure even my neck was red. And, while I'm undoubtedly a redneck, it's never physically happened before.

---

Life is so unfair. The entire reason Don had to take a shower in the first place was because I was insanely attracted to him. But, I'll be damned, he's unbelievably sexy after he's had a shower.

Lucky for me I have the lovely imagery of what happened the first time, and it's doubtful that I will ever cease to blush profusely at the slightest mention of the moment.

"Alright," he rubbed his hands together. He really likes having something to do with his hands. And currently touching one another was out of the question. No matter how much I wanted to run my fingers through his wet hair. Because, I'll tell you, it was looking very appealing.

"Game plan?" I asked, raising my brow, as I pulled my coat back on and caught Boone's leash as she made her way towards him.

He absently reached down to give her head a scratch. See what I mean about needing to do something with his hands?

"I'd sort of planned on you staying with me tonight," he looked pointedly at me. It was ridiculous that he was so tall he had to bend over to pet my giant puppy. Seriously, absolutely ridiculous. I mean, I didn't have to bend over any more. Which is nice, don't get me wrong, I like being able to pet my dog without having to break my back in the process, but, geeze, Don was just about on height with me when he was leaning down to pet the _giant_ dog.

"Am I going to get you in trouble?" I asked. I mean, I was all for staying with the blue eyed wonder, but I'd rather have forced time away now than, I don't know, have him lose his job.

Yeah. Surprisingly, I'm not okay with that.

"Some things are more important than upsetting your boss, Caroline."

Picture every romantic moment you've ever seen in movies or on TV or have thought up in your own head while daydreaming and throw those out the window. He might as well have declared his undying love for me in the most romantic way anyone has ever imagined. And, yes, the reality is much, much better than the fantasy.

He is undoubtedly going to give me a heart attack.

"I'm guessing Mac wasn't agreeing with that sentiment, when you guys were talking about me?" I looked down. Boone was very obviously content. Eyes closed and tongue hanging out happily. If only life were that easy for me.

"Yeah," Don hesitated. "But you're safe with me." I looked up at him. I'd be safe with any number of people. Clearly he knew that's what I was thinking. "I know you'd be safe with me."

After staring intently at the ground for several moments, willing my blush to disappear and my heart to calm down, I replied with a mumbled sarcastic remark about embarrassment and not being safe from that, and yes, my blush got deeper. And deeper still, seriously, my face was on fire, when he laughed at me.

And then...

Wait for it...

My phone rang. That's right. Again.

"Why does everyone on the face of the planet with my cell phone number feel like right now is the absolute best time to call me?" I rolled my eyes.

"I don't know if you noticed, but you were in a drive by, baby," Don simpered back at me. "People are worried." He slung his arm around my shoulders. The pressure never felt as heavenly as it did then. Especially because he called me 'baby' and it was so very, very attractive in that New York accent, I'm surprised I wasn't swooning outright. "But you're having this conversation on the way, Line, 'cause we can't stick around for another shower."

"Whatever you say, darlin'," I mumbled back, fumbling with my keys and my phone and trying to keep some order to my thoughts all at once.

I didn't even remember to be angry with Haley when I answered the phone.

_X-posted to livejournal, as per usual._

_I know, I know it's been a while. But school is still ridiculous. I'm sorry. This show's been fantastic lately, though, so. :) For some reason I couldn't 6x11 among my favorites, enough so to picspam the entire thing, holy crap. But anyway. I like the end of this chapter a lot. Sorry nothing really happened. But…I had the phone call with Jen in my mind and then I was like 'ooh, phone call with mom being all inappropriate,' and then that turned into basically the substance of the chapter and nothing really happened. So. Yeah. But I hope you like it anyway._

_**MissCrys: **__Hopefully the wait wasn't too long for you…thanks for reviewing the chapter! I'm glad you liked it. :)_

_**CSINYMinute:**__ Haha, yeah, maybe not the dog. You know Donnie boy well. ;) And, I mean, it's true, Detective Flack is very sexy. Thanks for reviewing! I love getting your reviews! :D_

_**iamagaraeagas: **__Who wouldn't be satisfied, right? My sister likes to point out that Anna once said in an interview that her daughter's in love with Eddie and we're always like 'well, yeah, who wouldn't be?' I was not aware of that. ;) To each his own, I suppose. But you're right, he's still undeniably sexy. Thanks so much for reviewing! :) Hopefully this chapter is pleasing._

_**xSamiliciousx: **__Yep. He might as well just get that tacked onto the front of his name officially. Admittedly, it might be a little difficult to intimidate certain criminals with Sexy Detective Flack as your title…Anyway, thanks! I'm glad you like her. And thanks for reviewing and hopefully this chapter isn't too bad! :)_

_**Ms. Lori Reznor: **__Thanks so much! :)_

_**Ladey Jezzabella: **__Thanks, I'm glad you like it. :)_

_**heartsandspuffy: **__Thank you! :) Yeah, there had to be some worthwhile humor spread throughout…but, I mean, who wouldn't be sexually frustrated when they're in such a position?_

_Thanks so much to everyone who reads and all the alerts and faves! Y'all know how to make my day. :)_

_Enjoy the chapter? ;)_

_-Piper_


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